To Hell and back
by j3of25
Summary: Steve is attacked and must come to terms with what has happened. So must the others. Meanwhile there is a murderer to be caught! Now complete
1.

This is a piece of fan fiction. It is written for pleasure and not for profit. The characters Steve and Mark Sloan, Jesse Travis and Amanda Bentley/Livingstone and Captain Newman are borrowed for the purposes of this story. All other characters are my own.  
  
Summary: Steve is the victim of a serial sexual attacker. He, his father and his friends have a difficult time coming to terms with what has happened to him and he ends up on the psych ward at Community General hospital, a suicide risk. He is befriended by one of the other patients, a young woman who starts him on the road to recovery. Meanwhile, one of the attackers victims dies increasing the stakes as the others try to capture him and Steve's life may be in danger again as the attacker has some connection with Community General  
  
This is a difficult subject which I have tried to treat sensitively. It is not about the attack it is about people's reactions to it. So there is little or no mention of what actually happens.  
  
The content of the attacks is not detailed here, but the idea is, I would therefore rate this story as at least a 15  
  
Part 1-The Attack  
  
Steve felt like he was back in high school. He'd just met a beautiful woman and the evening had been extremely pleasant up to now. She was great company and to say the two of them had hit it off would be a major understatement. Things were looking good for making breakfast plans together, and now here he was in the corridor outside the restrooms phoning his dad to say not to expect him home. At his age!  
  
Still with all that had happened recently he did not want his father to worry. So here he was sneaking out to the men's room to make the call. He got the answer phone, his dad must be working late. "Hi dad, just me. I got a date tonight and things seem to be working out, so I'm just calling to say..um.. Don't wait up for me and don't worry. See you tomorrow." He hung up, smoothed back his hair and walked back into the restaurant.  
  
Stacey was sitting at the table playing with her tennis bracelet waiting for him. She looked a little nervous, as though she was worried he might not come back. Her face broke into a huge smile as she spotted him returning and this made her look even more stunning. She was tall, brunette, and had what Steve considered to be a perfect figure. Not for the first time since he had met her just a few short hours ago, Steve wondered what he had done to deserve such luck.  
  
"I got us another round of drinks," she said as Steve sat down.  
  
"Thanks," he said picking his up and taking a mouthful.  
  
"And then I thought we could move on to somewhere a little more," she paused, "intimate"  
  
Steve didn't know whether to be flattered by her desire to take things further or intimidated by her forwardness. He tried to be a 'new man' but was always a little taken aback when the woman took the lead. Still it was not a suggestion he was going to pass up. "You don't give a guy much reason to want to sip his drink slowly do you?"  
  
She laughed, "no please take all the time you want, I can wait," there was a mischievous sparkle in her eye as she said this.  
  
"Trouble is I don't think I want to," he replied picking up and downing his drink. He put the glass down. "Where did you have in mind?"  
  
"Oh somewhere where there's subdued lighting, pleasant atmosphere, free drinks, soft music"  
  
"And where would that be?"  
  
"My place," she said smiling again, "you interested?"  
  
Steve began to stand as she did, helping her with her wrap. "Just show me the way."  
  
He followed as she led the way out of the side entrance of the restaurant. "My car's this way." She pointed down the alley and set off. Steve at her side.  
  
The dizziness started after about 15 paces. Steve shook his head to clear it but it didn't help. A few more steps and his vision started to blur. He felt. . . strange, that was the only way to describe it. He stopped, "Stacey I. . . "  
  
She turned and walked back to him, "What's wrong Steve, had a bit too much to drink." She took hold of his elbow and started to guide him forward.  
  
"No I. . . ." He was finding it difficult to focus, difficult to concentrate. Even so he was fairly sure it wasn't the effects of alcohol he was feeling. "No something else, I don't. . . don't feel too good."  
  
"Come on then we'll get you to my car." He allowed himself to be guided forward but was finding it increasingly difficult to walk in a straight line. "Come on just round this corner, that's it." They rounded the end of the next building into an even darker alley. At that moment a figure stepped out of the shadows. Stacey jumped in shock and let go of Steve, who slumped against the wall barely able to stand.  
  
Steve battled again to focus on his surroundings. The wall was cold and wet against his cheek and shoulder. The cold gave him the shock he needed to temporarily clear his mind. He was in danger, there was something very, very wrong with what was happening here and he needed to get help. He reached into his pocket for his cell phone. One touch on the emergency preset and help would be on its way.  
  
"What the. . . Why did you jump out on me like that? You scared the.." Stacey began but the stranger pushed her out of the way pulled a gun out of his pocket and struck Steve hard across the temple.  
  
Steve had just managed to get the phone clear and was fumbling to press the right button when the blow struck. He fell to the floor and the phone fell from his nerveless fingers.  
  
"Why did you do that? That wasn't in the plan. The poor guy's got enough stuff in him to drop an elephant. It wasn't necessary" Stacey said looking down at the lifeless figure.  
  
Ryan turned a steely gaze on her. "Cell phone," he said kicking it away. "He could have had an emergency preset on it. Can't take any chances."  
  
"We wouldn't have had to if you'd waited 'til I got him to the car as arranged." She replied her temper rising.  
  
His voice remained as icy as ever. "I've been following you. It didn't look like you'd make it back to the car. How much stuff did you give him?"  
  
"It wasn't my fault, he downed his drink, most guys just take a couple of sips and then I make my proposition and they leave the rest. He's taken the full dose."  
  
"Between that and the knock I just gave him it's going to take a while for him to come round," he looked down at Steve's unconscious form, "and I need him to know what's going on for what I have planned." He looked up at Stacey anger showing in his voice, "you really know how to ruin a man's plans."  
  
"Hey, I do my best. Find someone else to do your dirty work if you think you can. A sicko like you would.." She stopped abruptly as he grabbed her hair and pushed his gun into the soft flesh below her jawline.  
  
"I f I were you I'd shut up unless you want to find out just how sick I am." The menace in his voice was clear.  
  
"Look, I don't care what you do once I bring 'em just give me my stuff and I'll be out of here."  
  
Ryan twisted the gun round once just enough to hurt and leave a mark. Then he pushed her away so that she fell onto the wet alley floor. He threw a small packet on top of her. "Get out of here. Wait for my next call."  
  
Stacey did not need telling twice. She picked up the packet hauled herself up and ran off as quickly as she could leaving Ryan and Steve alone in the alley. "Come on then friend let's go and play." Ryan said as he hauled Steve onto his shoulders.  
  
Part 2: Panic Stations  
  
Mark was sitting in his office at 2 p.m. the next day when the phone rang. He'd got in late the previous evening and listened to Steve's message. Part of him was really happy that Steve was dating again but he really couldn't get used to the modern trend of getting intimate so quickly. In his day. . . but he supposed that summed it up. 'In his day,' this was a new generation and a whole new set of moral values. At least he had the confidence to know that Steve had a good character and would try in his own way to remain honourable. He picked up the phone and answered "Mark Sloan"  
  
"Mark," it was the familiar voice of captain Newman, "I'm just ringing to find out if you know where Steve is? He didn't show up for work this morning and I can't get an answer at the beach house. His cell phone seems to be switched off too."  
  
"No, Jack, I haven't seen him since yesterday. He left me a message last night to say not to expect him home"  
  
"And you haven't heard from him?"  
  
"No," there was increasing concern in Mark's voice.  
  
"Well, I'm sure it's nothing to be concerned about." Newman continued, trying not to show his own concern. He knew enough about Steve's relationship with his father to realise that he had just pressed the panic button. He tried to pull back just in case there was a simple explanation for Steve's absence. "He hasn't got a lot on at the moment maybe he decided to take the day off."  
  
"Without calling in? You know Steve would never do that. I just told you he left me a message last night to say he wouldn't be home so I wouldn't worry. There's no way, with everything that has happened recently that he would not show up where he was supposed to be without leaving some kind of message. What time should he have reported in this morning?"  
  
"9.00 am. Nobody thought anything of it, they figured he was out working on something until he missed a briefing at 1.00"  
  
"That does it," Mark sat forward the concern now showing on his face. "There is no way he would miss a meeting unless there was something wrong."  
  
"That's why I decided to ring you. It would be out of character. I'll get some people to start checking around, but I don't think it's time for panic stations yet."  
  
"No, but all the same I'll go back out to the house and see if he's been home. Let me know if you hear anything."  
  
"Likewise, I'll call back with an update if we find anything," and with that he hung up.  
  
Mark put the receiver down and stared at it for a couple of minutes. Being a parent was never easy but being the parent of a cop he was constantly living on a knife edge and just recently there had been too many occasions when it looked like some of the nightmares may actually come true. He shivered involuntarily. 'Come on Mark,' he told himself, 'don't let yourself get caught up by worry. You don't actually know that there is anything wrong yet.' But deep down he did know. He knew that Steve was in some sort of bad trouble.  
  
Part 3 - Getting Home  
  
Steve was on the street. He was walking but he wasn't sure where he was or how long he had been walking for. He had a pounding headache and the left side of his temple was incredibly sore. He was pretty sure it was cut but he didn't have the coordination to gently touch it and feel what was wrong. His one attempt had probably made things worse as he pressed too hard and sent a shooting pain through the whole left side of his skull. His clothes were disheveled and he made no attempt to straighten them. The only thing he could think about was getting home.  
  
Home, where it was safe and warm, where he would be protected from.. from. He struggled with the memory. What did he need protection from? And then there it was like a lightning strike hitting him, the full horror of what he had just endured flooded his mind and overwhelmed him. The smell of the room, the mocking voice telling him what he was going to do, and then the weight pressing down on him pushing. . . No, He blocked it out, forced the memory away. He just needed to get home. There he would be safe.  
  
He walked along in a daze not really sure exactly where he was or how he was going to get home. He was vaguely aware of crossing a road at some point. There were cars, horns, screeching of tyres, someone shouting obscenities, but he couldn't take it in, there was probably something he should apologise for. He didn't seem to have the ability to focus and work out what it was. So he just kept on walking. 'Just got to get home'  
  
Eventually he reached the beach. He walked onto it, felt the sand beneath his toes and for the first time realised that he didn't have on any shoes or socks. He looked down at his feet and saw the blood where the stones and harsh pavements had cut into them. Strange that he hadn't felt any pain. He continued staring down for another moment or two but looking down was beginning to make him feel dizzy. He lost his balance momentarily and stumbled forward to regain it and then he continued walking. 'Nearly home.'  
  
Steve approached the beach house. He was nearly there, he tried to speed up to get to his safe haven but he didn't seem to move any quicker. He walked round to the door to his apartment and tried to open it to get in. The door was locked. Keys, he needed keys to get in. He fumbled in his pockets. After what seemed like an age he realised that he had checked all of his pockets, some of them probably more than once. He didn't have the keys he must have lost them. So close and yet so far. He leaned against the wall and sank down to the floor in despair. He pulled his knees up against his chest, wrapped his arms round his legs and curled his head over as though making himself as small as possible would somehow help.  
  
Part 4 - being found  
  
Mark pulled into the drive of the beach house and got out of the car. He had signed himself out of the hospital and headed straight here after captain Newman's phone call. His only pause had been to let Jesse and Amanda know where he was going. He was supposed to have been meeting them for coffee at 2.30. He tried to play down his concern for Steve whilst talking to them, all the while attempting to suppress the feeling of dread that was building up inside him.  
  
For some reason he didn't go to the main door he went straight for the door to Steve's apartment. "Steve," he called out and broke into a run as he saw the curled up figure of his son sitting by his door. "Steve are you alright?"  
  
Steve looked up "Keys," he said "Haven't got any keys." His words were almost slurred  
  
One look at his son's face told him that his question was superfluous. Steve was not alright. For a brief moment Mark thought it might be drink that had caused Steve's condition, but no. There was a haunted look in his eyes, a look that chilled Mark to the bone. There was also the large cut running across the left side of his temple, it looked like it had come from a blow from a blunt object. Mark had seen enough of them to know.  
  
"Keys," repeated Steve, "no keys."  
  
"Steve," Mark gripped him by the shoulders and knelt down so their faces were level. "Steve do you know who I am? Do you recognise me? Steve?"  
  
Steve looked at his father and tried to focus through the haze. "Dad," he said at last. "Dad I need to get in. I need to go home."  
  
Mark breathed a sigh of relief, at least Steve recognised him. "Can you tell me what happened? How do you feel." There was no response. "Steve," Mark prompted.  
  
Steve was trying hard to answer his father's questions. He knew it was somehow important. If only he didn't keep drifting off. "Drugged I think, hit, don't remember."  
  
"Can you stand son. I need to get you to the hospital." Mark said as he moved round and half lifted, half pulled Steve to his feet. Steve did his best to cooperate but ever since he had stopped walking his muscles had stiffened and the combination of drugs and injury left him weak and with little coordination.  
  
Mark did not want to wait for an ambulance. Whatever drugs Steve had in his system could cause him to drop into a coma. Add to that he increased risk from a possible concussion and Mark wanted to get to the ER as soon as he could. He eased Steve into the car and headed off ignoring traffic signs and speed limits.  
  
Mark tried to keep Steve talking and conscious but he also had to concentrate on his driving. By the time they had reached Community General Steve had drifted off at least twice. Mark half carried Steve again, out of the car. As he pushed through the doors into the ER he yelled out for a guerney. Jesse, recognising his friends voice ran out of exam room 1 to see what was happening, just in time to see Steve being lowered onto a bed by his father.  
  
"Mark?" He said questioningly as he rushed over. "What happened?"  
  
Mark looked at him, his voice strained "I don't know Jess, He's been drugged, hit, god knows what else. I found him like that at home."  
  
"Ok, you go and sit down, I'll come and talk to you when I've examined him. Call Amanda. Get her to come and sit with you."  
  
"I will," and with that he turned and walked away.  
  
Jesse turned back to his patient and his friend. He listened as the nurse gave his vitals and then reeled off a list of tests and instructions for what he wanted. The nurses began to prep an IV and take blood samples. Jesse moved to check his pupil response. At that moment Steve came to and began to fight "Stop, no, get off. Leave me alone"  
  
"Steve it's me Jess. Stop fighting us." He grabbed hold of his friends shoulders to get his attention. "Steve its Jess"  
  
The familiar voice broke through the mist. Steve relaxed "Jess?" he said trying to focus but the best he could see was a blurry outline.  
  
"It's ok Steve, you're at Community General your dad brought you here. Remember?"  
  
Steve rested his head back on the guerney. "I remember," he said.  
  
"Steve, Can you tell me what happened? Do you know what drugs they gave you?"  
  
Steve tried to think, his thoughts were still confused but he suddenly knew one thing. He did not want Jesse Travis, his friend and his business partner to be here now, to see him like this to find, oh god no! If he ever wanted the anonymity of a strange doctor to treat him he wanted it now. "Jess," he said, when he could formulate the words.  
  
"Yes Steve"  
  
"Jess, I want another doctor"  
  
"There are plenty of doctors around, Steve, but I can handle this on my own for now."  
  
"No Jess, I don't want you to treat me. I want another doctor and I want you to. . . " he paused. His brain was too confused to put any but the most basic sentences together. He had to get his message across without the luxury of tact. "I want you to go away."  
  
Jesse was taken aback, at first he didn't know what to say. "But Steve," he managed to get out.  
  
"Please Jess" Steve looked pleadingly at his friend.  
  
"Ok," Jesse was hurt and confused, "I'll get Dr Taylor. He's very good. I'll fill him in now."  
  
"Thanks," Steve managed to get out before the effort was too much for him and he blacked out again.  
  
Part 5 - The awful truth  
  
Jess joined Mark and Amanda in the doctor's lounge. Mark was surprised to see him so quickly and worried by the look on his young friends face but Amanda beat him to the question.  
  
"Jess, is everything alright? How's Steve"  
  
Jess walked in and slumped into a chair before he replied "I'm not sure, I hadn't even finished the preliminary exam when he asked for another doctor. Said he didn't want me to treat him"  
  
Mark sat forward in his chair, he looked like he had aged several years in the last few hours and the ordeal wasn't over yet. "Did he say why?"  
  
"No just that he didn't want me there. I got Dr Taylor in. He's very good and he'll report to us as soon as he knows anything. From what I did see he's got a nasty concussion, so we'll be admitting him."  
  
"Did he say anything else?" Amanda asked.  
  
"No but, he's confused and pretty much out of it, he keeps drifting off"  
  
Mark let out a heavy sigh and put his head in his hands. "I just wish there was something I could do"  
  
Amanda reached out and put her hand on his shoulder. "Just be there for him like always."  
  
Jess got up and got them all some coffee. At least it was something to do.  
  
It was about 4pm when Dr Taylor finally put his head around the door of the lounge. He didn't come in, instead he motioned to Jesse to come out and talk to him. Mark and Amanda watched him go their concern growing. What was Jesse being told that Dr Taylor did not want to share with them .  
  
They heard Jesse's exclamation through the closed door and stood as one heading for their friend. By the time they came out Dr Taylor had left leaving Jesse standing alone in the corridor.  
  
"Jess, what is it?" Mark asked. "Is Steve?" He let the question trail off.  
  
"No Mark, Steve's going to be fine, at least physically. Come on let's go back in we all need to sit down." Jesse ushered the others back to their seats.  
  
"As we suspected that blow to the head has caused a fairly nasty concussion and it needed 7 stitches." Jesse began. "He has various other cuts and contusions on his body including some rope burns on his wrists. As for the drugs in his system, they were fortunately, only designed to incapacitate him, not kill him." He stopped, trying to figure out which piece of information to give next. "One of the drugs in his system was Rohypnol." Jesse stopped again. He closed his eyes and bent his head.  
  
"Jess," prompted Amanda.  
  
Jesse opened his eyes but continued to look at the floor "Look There's no easy way to say this as well as various cuts and contusions Steve has been," He found it difficult to continue but he eventually found the words. "He's also been sexually assaulted"  
  
Mark exhaled the breath he been holding in. "No" was all he said before he too bowed his head.  
  
Jesse finally looked up at Mark then at Amanda, tears had started to form in her eyes. "Dr Taylor said that Steve became extremely agitated after the exam. He's sedated him again. He's going to keep him under and review it tomorrow. He's been admitted to room 279"  
  
For a while there was no movement in the room as each of them tried to absorb the enormity of what they had just been told. How would Steve cope and how could they, as the closest people to him in the world, help him deal with it.  
  
Finally Mark stood. "I'm going to go and sit with him." He said simply and left the room.  
  
Amanda looked across at Jesse, who met her gaze "He's hurting"  
  
Jesse said "This is going to take a lot for both of them to come to terms with"  
  
"For all of us," echoed Amanda.  
  
Part 6 - The Immediate Aftermath  
  
Steve was resting peacefully in bed. Mark sat and watched him as he had done for most of the evening. His wounds had been cleaned and dressed and he looked almost serene lying there. The sedation was doing it's job and allowing him to rest, but Mark knew that although it may help whilst his physical wounds healed, the emotional scars would still be there when he awoke. That, however, was tomorrow's problem.  
  
Mark thought, not for the first time just how hard it was to have children. The desire to protect them from the world and wrap them in cotton wool. The fear that something would happen to them. The pain and the guilt when something did because you could not protect them. With all this why did people have children? Sometimes Mark thought the pain was too much to bear. But then he remembered the good times, the love, the joy he'd shared and he knew why. He also knew that given the chance, he'd do the same thing all over again.  
  
With that thought he finally drifted off to sleep.  
  
Jesse and Amanda had both stopped by before they went home but Mark had assured them that there was nothing that any of them could do until the following day and that he would stay with Steve in case there was any change.  
  
Dr Taylor was in early the following day. He checked on Steve's condition and then turned to Mark. "I'm, er, sorry for not talking to you myself last night. I just thought you might find it easier getting the news from Jesse."  
  
"No, that's fine, thankyou for your concern." He looked over Dr Taylor's shoulder to Steve. "How's he doing?"  
  
"Good I think we'll let him wake up naturally, I've reduced the sedative and we'll see how he does."  
  
"Ok, I'll stay with him."  
  
"Mark, I'll be honest with you, given the way he reacted last night I think it may be necessary to refer him."  
  
"A Psychiatrist?"  
  
"Yes, I thought doctor Carter, she's very good and has a lot of experience in this area"  
  
"Yes I've heard of her, she has a good reputation. I think you're right, to refer him. He's going to need more help than I can give him"  
  
"Good, I'll do the referral straight away and check back in later." and with that he left.  
  
Steve stirred several times during the morning but never really woke up properly. At about 2 pm there was a knock on the door. A man entered he took out his badge as he introduced himself. "Detective Nathan Turner sir"  
  
"Mark Sloan, what can I do for you detective?" Mark stood and headed toward the door. "We can talk outside." Detective Turner backed out of the room as Mark followed onto the corridor.  
  
"I'm here about your son sir Lt Steve Sloan, I believe he was the victim of an attack yesterday"  
  
"He's still under sedation, detective none of us are sure what happened and I'm not sure that he'll be that much help to you when he does come round."  
  
"Reluctant to talk about it you mean?"  
  
"Or unable to."  
  
"I know what you mean sir but I've been working on this case for three months now"  
  
"This case?"  
  
"Yes sir, I believe your son was the victim of a serial attacker. There have been at least four other cases in the last three months and that's just the ones that have made it to the emergency rooms. People are pretty reluctant to admit to being the victims of this type of crime. Your son is the most seriously hurt so far but I believe it's only a matter of time before this guy kills someone. I figured that since your son is a police lieutenant, this is my best chance so far of getting a lead."  
  
"No," Mark replied  
  
"Are you saying that you won't cooperate?"  
  
"The only thing that is important to me right now is my son's recovery both physical and mental. He's in no state to be questioned at the moment. I'm sorry, but we won't be able to help you. If that situation changes I'll get in touch."  
  
"But Dr Sloan other people's lives may be at stake"  
  
Mark closed his eyes. "I know that, but my son has devoted his life to helping other people and right now he's the one who needs the help. I'm sorry detective"  
  
"Well I'll give you my card just in case you change your mind or you find anything that may help me."  
  
Mark took the offered card and put it into his pocket "I hope you get your man detective," he shook detective Turner's hand. Then turned and reentered Steve's room.  
  
It took Mark a moment to realise that Steve was awake. His eyes were open and he was staring at the ceiling.  
  
"Steve," he walked over to the bed. "How are you feeling son?"  
  
Steve turned away from him. "Dad I," he began but could not finish.  
  
Mark put out a hand to touch Steve on the shoulder but he flinched way from it. Mark pulled his hand back not sure what to do.  
  
"Dad please I just need some time alone." Steve eventually managed to say.  
  
"Fine but if you need me, just get one of the nurses to page me," and with that, feeling even more helpless than he did before, Mark left. Steve stared at the ceiling for a long time before he eventually fell back to sleep.  
  
Mark tried to go and see some of his patients but his mind was not on his work. So eventually he went back to his office and stared at the paperwork he was supposed to be doing. Finally he gave up completely and went to see how Jesse and Amanda were doing. They met up in the doctor's lounge and Mark filled them in on the days events including the visit by detective Turner.  
  
Amanda was the first to speak "I understand your reasons for not wanting Steve disturbed Mark, but I think I'll see if I can help him with any forensics. After all we do want the person who did this to Steve caught and stopped."  
  
Mark took them both by surprise with his reply "That's not my priority right now. I just want to see Steve better."  
  
Jesse let the surprise show in his expression. "But surely you must want the person capable of doing this off the streets, especially if he's likely to do it again.  
  
"Of course I do," Mark exploded with uncharacteristic anger. "It will just have to be done without my help, or Steve's. For once in my life I'm going to concentrate on those who are important to me instead of strangers. You do realise we could lose him for ever on this one." Mark rose, "If you need me I'll be in my office.  
  
Neither of them knew how to respond so they sat for a few minutes in silence. This was not like Mark.  
  
Steve woke up sweating and breathing heavily, a strong sense of panic gripped him, the nightmare had been so vivid, so real, almost as if it was actually happening to him. And then he remembered, that was because it wasn't a nightmare, it was a flashback, it had really happened. The feeling of panic got worse; he was having difficulty drawing breath, his chest felt tight. He wasn't thinking very clearly again. The painful memories wouldn't stop this time, wouldn't go away. He couldn't block them out like before. Then he remembered the desire to get to safety, to get home. Yes that is what he needed to do. If he could get home he would be safe, the panic would go away.  
  
Mark had spent the rest of the afternoon in his office moving the paper on his desk around without really accomplishing anything Both Jesse and Amanda had stopped by a couple of times to check that he was alright and to report on Steve. So far he hadn't wanted to see any of them. All three kept checking with the nurses' station on the second floor, waiting for the message that Steve needed them, but it never came. By 6.00 pm Mark had resolved to go back anyway but before he could do anything about it his pager went off. It was the nurses' station. He headed for the elevator to find Jesse and Amanda already in it. They had all been paged.  
  
When they reached the nurses station they found quite a commotion. The sister in charge came over to them. "I'm sorry Dr Sloan but I'm afraid there's been a terrible mix up," she was clearly concerned and spoke too quickly. "Steve's gone missing from his room. It happened at the changeover, one of my nurses went off sick. Nobody checked his room between 4.30 and now. I'm really sorry I've started a search of the hospital"  
  
Mark could feel the urge to panic building inside him but he suppressed it and tried to think logically. "Ok Jesse, Amanda. You help search here I'm going to drive home see if he's managed to head there. Call me if you find anything.  
  
For the second time in 36 hours Steve Sloan had managed to find his way home on foot. This time however, he knew where to look for the spare key and let himself into his apartment.  
  
Mark drove quickly the worry lines beginning to show deeply creasing his forehead. If Steve was not at home he'd try Bob's and if not there then Jesse's or Amanda's and if not there then where? In Steve's current frame of mind he could go anywhere. No, Mark refused to let himself think like that. Steve would be at home or still at the hospital. He'd probably just gone for a walk. Mark had to believe that.  
  
Within seconds of arriving at the beach house he knew he had found his son. The door to Steve's apartment was wide open. Mark walked quickly in but there was no sign of Steve. He called out his name several times but got no reply. Then he heard it, running water.  
  
He ran into the bathroom and the sight that greeted him made his heart sink to a depth of despair that he hadn't felt since his wife's illness. Steve was standing in the shower, still fully clothed, scrubbing away at his upper body.  
  
Mark walked over to him "Steve," he said gently.  
  
Steve turned to look at his father. "I can't get clean dad. No matter how hard I rub I can't get clean."  
  
"Steve," he said again gently and reached over to turn off the shower. The water was freezing cold. "Come on lets get you out of there"  
  
"You don't understand," Steve said the desperation showing in his voice. "No matter how hard I rub," he repeated "I just can't get clean." and then he began to sob. He leaned back against the wall, finally realising that there was no water anymore, and as his strength deserted him slid down to the floor. "I just can't get clean," he muttered in between sobs.  
  
Mark stood for a few moments transfixed, watching his son, unable to decide what to do to help. He moved back into the bedroom. He did not want to leave Steve alone but he needed Jesse here. He rang Jesse's cell phone. "Jesse?" Mark said as soon as it was answered. "He's here at the beach house can you get here as soon as possible?" and without waiting for a reply he hung up and moved quickly back into the bathroom. Nothing had changed. Steve was still slumped in the corner of the shower his shoulders moving up and down slightly as the sobs coursed through his upper body. Mark sat heavily on the wash basin. "That's right son,' he thought 'you cry it out, get it out of your system.' And so he sat and waited.  
  
After about 15 minutes, the sobbing had died down, Steve was quiet in the corner his head on his knees. It was then that Mark noticed that his son was shivering. Mark stood quickly, of course, what had he been thinking, leaving Steve sitting there in cold damp clothing. He moved across to his son and spoke gently "Come on Steve it's time to get out of here." As he spoke he gently hooked his arm under Steve's and guided him up. Steve did not resist. As soon as he had stepped out of the shower. Mark draped a large towel around his shoulders, then guided him into the bedroom. He grabbed a blanket and wrapped that around Steve too.  
  
Steve made no move to do anything under his own initiative, merely allowing himself to be guided around by his father.  
  
Mark sat Steve down on the bed. He studied the wound on Steve's temple. The water had opened it up again and it had started to bleed, a thin line of blood ran down his cheek. It would need cleaning and dressing again. Mark sat down next to his son so that he could examine the wound more closely. He did not get the chance, Steve was exhausted, physically and mentally. He rested his head on his fathers shoulder, Mark instinctively put his arm round him.  
  
"I'm home aren't I dad?" Steve said so softly that Mark almost missed it.  
  
"Yes son you're home," Mark replied gently pulling him in closer.  
  
"Good then I'm safe," he said and closed his eyes.  
  
Mark could feel the tears running down his face as he held his son, gently rocking him, as he had done when he was a child.  
  
That was how Jesse found them, Steve asleep in Mark's arms.  
  
Between them Mark and Jesse managed to get Steve out of his wet clothes and into bed, disturbing him as little as possible. Jesse redressed his wounds and gave him another mild sedative to ensure a good nights rest. When Steve had been looked after Jesse turned his attention to Mark.  
  
"How are you doing?" Jesse asked, looking with concern at Mark's pale drawn face.  
  
"Better than him," he said indicating Steve's sleeping form.  
  
"Should we try to get him back to the hospital?"  
  
"No, I don't think that's a good idea. At the moment he sees this place as a safe haven. We'll keep him here tonight and I'll try and persuade him to go back in the morning. Can you stay to help me look after him?"  
  
"Mark? Do you need to ask? Of course I'll stay. But you need to get your rest. I'll stay down here and watch Steve."  
  
Mark would normally have argued but the events of the past couple of days had drained him completely. "If you're sure? Thanks Jess."  
  
"Do you need something to help you sleep?"  
  
"No, I'll be fine. Look after him," and with that Mark went upstairs.  
  
Jess looked round put two chairs together and set about making himself comfortable. He quickly rang Amanda to fill her in on Steve's condition and then settled down for the night.  
  
Part 7 - The Decision  
  
Jesse slept fitfully. He woke up every hour or so and looked across at Steve to check he was alright. Only once did he have to get up to check more closely as Steve seemed to be having some sort of nightmare, but it passed and Steve settled down again so Jesse went back to sleep. He woke up with a start in the morning and looked across to the bed expecting to see Steve sleeping peacefully, but the bed was empty.  
  
Jesse jumped up panicking a little and cursing himself for sleeping so soundly. "Steve?" He shouted.  
  
"In here Jess." The reply came from the bathroom.  
  
Jesse entered the bathroom unprepared for what he saw. Steve was standing at the bathroom mirror, shaving, looking like he didn't have a care in the world.  
  
"Hi Jess," he said sounding cheerful, "sorry, did I wake you? I was trying to be as quiet as I could. I don't reckon you got much sleep."  
  
"Steve," Jesse asked incredulously, "Are you ok?"  
  
"Yes I'm fine. Honestly, I'm feeling much better." He turned and looked at Jesse and then looked back at the mirror, he was continuing to shave as he spoke.  
  
"But last night," Jess started.  
  
Steve interrupted him, "I know," he put his razor down and turned to face Jesse. "I lost it a bit. Everything just got on top of me, Jess. I don't think I could explain it if I tried and I'm not sure I want to. This whole thing is going to be difficult to come to terms with. But when I woke up today, everything just seemed better. I've got to try to get on with life." All the time he had been saying this he had held Jesse's gaze. The sincerity of what he was saying created an intense atmosphere. Steve tried to lighten the mood by throwing a towel at Jesse. "Now get out of here so I can finish getting dressed."  
  
"If you're sure you're going to be ok?"  
  
"Yes, go and see how my dad's doing and tell him I'll be up for breakfast." Jesse paused looking at Steve for any signs of the trauma of the last couple of days as Steve turned back to the mirror. "Will you get out of here?"  
  
"Alright," Jesse said at last. He could see no reason to stay any longer. "I'm going."  
  
And with that he headed upstairs to find Mark.  
  
Mark was in the kitchen. He hadn't been up long himself. He was busy getting some coffee and took down another cup to pour Jesse some.  
  
"Better make that three cups," Jesse said and told Mark about his conversation with Steve.  
  
"He must be putting a brave face on it. You saw him last night." Mark said when Jesse had finished.  
  
"I agree, but I don't think he's claiming a miracle cure. From what he said he knows he's got a long way to go, but it's a good first step"  
  
"As long as he doesn't try to pretend it didn't happen."  
  
"I wish I could." Steve was standing at the door.  
  
Mark turned to look at his son. "Steve I'm sorry."  
  
"It's ok dad. I'd be surprised if you weren't talking about me. Now how about some breakfast. Those IV drips may give you everything you need from a nutrition point of view, but my stomach still knows I haven't eaten for two days."  
  
"Ok sit down son I'll get breakfast." Mark watched his son as he went to sit. He didn't know which behaviour he found most worrying what he had seen last night or this new, 'nothing is wrong' attitude that he saw now. He looked across at Jesse who looked back with "see what I mean' written all over his face.  
  
After breakfast Mark broached the subject of going back to the hospital.  
  
"Dad," Steve began, "I know you're not going to want to agree with this, so hear me out before you say anything so I can explain my reasoning. Please. I know you want me to go back to the hospital and I will. Sign me up for whatever counseling you think I need. But, for now, for today at least, I want to be here, at home. It's where I feel safe and I think I kind of need that security to help me get through this." Steve looked at his father, knowing he had not delivered his most controversial request. Mark remained quiet, as he had been asked, waiting for his son to finish. "And I want to be alone."  
  
That did it Mark could not keep quiet at that. "Steve, I'm not sure that's wise at the moment. I can see your reasons for wanting to stay here, but either me or Jesse can switch shifts at the hospital and stay out here with you. We don't have to sit in each other's pockets, just be here.'  
  
"Look dad, I'm grateful, but I think you're being over protective. I'll be fine here on my own and I'll ring you every hour so you'll know I'm ok, if you want, but please trust me. I need to be alone and I need to know that someone isn't going to keep popping their head round the door every five minutes checking up on me. I have to have time to think. You have to let me deal with this in my own way."  
  
Mark thought about what his son was saying. Was he being over protective? Maybe, but then he thought back to last night and his son standing in the shower, the haunted look on his face. What if that happened again?  
  
Steve studied his father's face, over the years he had learned to read what his father's reaction was going to be before he actually said anything. On this occasion it looked like his father was going to say yes but then his face clouded over and he knew it would be no. He jumped in again before his father could say anything. "If you're worried about something like last night. I will call you every hour. If I don't call, you can come back."  
  
Mark was about to say no. He studied his son's face, he still looked pale and he could still see the pain etched in lines across his forehead, but there was something of the old sparkle back in his eyes and he seemed logical and rational. "Ok," Mark said guardedly "but you must promise to call if you need anything at all."  
  
Steve sat back the relief showing on his face. "I will."  
  
Jesse spoke for the first time; he figured the conversation before that, was between Steve and Mark. "Or you can call me, or Amanda"  
  
Steve smiled, "I know that"  
  
Jesse turned more professional. "I'll leave you some antibiotics to take and I'd like to look at the other cuts before we go, put fresh dressings on."  
  
"Ok doc, Come on then."  
  
Jesse and Mark headed off for Community General at around 8.00 am. Steve watched them go and turned round and walked into the house. He was relieved that he'd been able to talk them into going, and now, he could finally admit to himself the true reason why. He had a lot to do, but first he set his watch alarm to beep every hour to remind him to phone the hospital. He didn't want his dad coming home early.  
  
Then he went into his room and started sorting things. There were lots of decisions to be made and that kept his mind occupied and busy for much of the morning. After the third phone call at 11am. He sat and thought for the first time about what he was doing.  
  
He wasn't entirely sure at what time he'd made the decision, only that he'd been lying in bed about to go into another set of panic when the idea had occurred to him as the only solution. Having thought about it, and decided it was his only option, a new sense of calm had descended over him. He had lain awake for some time more, planning everything out in detail. When he was sure he'd accounted for everything, he got up to get ready for the day. That was when Jesse found him. The calm and inner peace that making the decision had given him had allowed him to put on the front for his father and Jesse. The only way to persuade them to go, and leave him alone. The only way he could carry out his plan.  
  
Steve had decided that he would never be able to come to terms with what had happened to him and that ultimately he would destroy himself and those closest to him: dad, Jesse and Amanda, if he were to try. The decision he had come to was that it would be best for everyone if he wasn't around. He had decided to kill himself.  
  
Part 8 - Back from the brink  
  
Steve had spent the morning arranging his things, setting his affairs in order, they called it. He had dealt with many suicides as a part of his job and it always seemed slightly easier on the relatives, if they didn't have the added pain of having to deal with the victim's effects. He wanted this to be as painless as possible for everyone.  
  
Each phone call he had to make became a little harder, but he kept the tone light and listened to his father's advice, promising each time to follow it. At 1.00pm He called Jesse and Amanda as well. He claimed he was doing it so that they wouldn't worry but really he just wanted to hear their voices for one last time. Neither of them realised the significance of the goodbyes at the end of the conversation but for Steve it was the most difficult word he'd ever had to say.  
  
By the two o'clock call nearly everything was ready. He rang his dad for the last time and almost blew it at the end of the conversation when he couldn't say the word goodbye without choking up. He covered it with a cough and was fairly sure he'd got away with it. He sat looking at the bottles of pills on the table in front of him. He was out on the deck where he could see the ocean. It was now or never.  
  
Mark had managed to keep himself busy for most of the day. He had even managed to make some useful progress on his paperwork. It had taken a great deal of self-control for him not to go home for lunch just to check on how Steve was doing. But Steve had kept his promise and had rung every hour on the hour and he sounded fine, so Mark had to keep his word too and stay in work.  
  
It was only as he hung the phone up from the two o'clock call that he'd started to have an inkling of doubt. He couldn't quite put his finger on it, but his instincts told him that there was something wrong. He didn't have much time to consider it when there was a knock on his door. "Come in."  
  
Dr Carter walked in, "Hi Dr Sloan I wondered if I could have a word."  
  
Mark smiled as he stood and gestured for her to come in. "Dr Carter isn't it?"  
  
She nodded, Mark had seen her around the hospital but they had never actually met. "Of course please have a seat."  
  
"I'll get straight to the point as I've just sneaked down between patients. I wanted to ask you about Steve - he's been referred to me after being attacked. I understand he left the hospital last night. I was wondering if you could fill me in with some background. Is he coming back?"  
  
"Yes, I think so, but I am very concerned about him," and with that opening, Mark poured out everything that had happened in the last two days, right up to the most recent phone call. He wasn't sure if it was going to help Steve, but telling someone his own feelings about it all, was certainly therapy for him. At the end of his narrative Dr Carter looked worryingly concerned.  
  
"You say he was completely calm this morning, almost as if nothing had happened to him?"  
  
"Yes," Mark heard in the tone of Dr Carter's question, a concern that he didn't like.  
  
"And he was very insistent that you leave him alone all day?"  
  
"Yes."  
  
"Mark you're a doctor. Do you keep a medical bag at home?"  
  
"Yes," he did not like where this line of questioning was going. "My god you don't think he.." He couldn't finish the question.  
  
"What time was the last phone call?"  
  
"2.o'clock, he looked at his watch about 20 minutes ago"  
  
"Mark I think you should go home- now. If I'm wrong Steve will be a little upset, but if I'm right," she let the sentence hang unfinished.  
  
Mark was now sufficiently concerned not to need telling twice. "Thankyou Dr Carter, I'll follow your advice." He said and left the room as quickly as he could.  
  
For the entire drive to the beach house Mark hoped that Dr Carter was wrong, but he could now put the pieces together for himself and, with a growing fear inside him, he knew that she was right. He cursed himself for not seeing it sooner. Now it could be too late.  
  
Mark almost ran into the beach house for the third time in as many days, he was here looking for his son with a real concern for his safety. He quickly checked through every room, shouting out Steve's name as he moved through the house. He finally came out onto the deck. Steve was sitting there staring out at the ocean. Mark took in the whole scene in an instant there were several bottles on the table and a pen and paper next to where Steve was sitting.  
  
"Steve," he said urgently, "Have you taken anything."  
  
Steve carried on staring out at the ocean. "No, you can check the bottles, they're all still full."  
  
Mark felt the relief wash over him. He sat down and allowed his breathing to settle before he carried on with the conversation.  
  
"How did you know?" Steve asked  
  
"Dr Carter, she's the psychiatrist you've been referred to, I told her about your behavior and reactions. She sent me out here. I'm just relieved I wasn't too late."  
  
"You are."  
  
Mark felt that fear again "But you said you haven't.."  
  
"No," Steve interrupted, "but if I'd kept to my plan it would all have been over by now."  
  
"What stopped you?"  
  
"The note."  
  
"The note?"  
  
"I tried to write a note to you, to explain, so you would understand," he paused, "and I couldn't do it. I knew you would never understand, that you would always blame yourself for leaving me here. So I couldn't do it."  
  
Mark looked at the collection of pill bottles on the table. "A pretty lethal combination. There's no way we would have been able to save you"  
  
"That was the idea. This wasn't a cry for help." Steve had known exactly what to use to make sure it was final. Years in homicide with a father as a doctor had taught him that. "I had also arranged for one of the guys from the station to come over and talk to me at 3pm so you wouldn't be the one to find the body"  
  
"Very considerate." Mark said unable to keep the sarcastic tone out of his voice.  
  
For the first time Steve took his eyes off the ocean and turned and looked at his father. "I was trying to make it easier on you."  
  
"You couldn't"  
  
Steve looked away again "I know"  
  
The whole conversation was carried out with a detached calm that made it almost surreal. The enormity of what they were discussing would have overwhelmed them both at any other level.  
  
"What now," Steve asked.  
  
"Will you go back to the hospital?"  
  
"Psych ward?"  
  
"Yes"  
  
"In patient?"  
  
"Yes"  
  
Steve considered it. "How long?"  
  
"As long as it takes."  
  
"Yes," Steve said with a heavy sigh. "You'd best set it up. I'll go and put some things together" and with that he got up and went inside to pack.  
  
Mark was left sitting on the deck, now it was his turn to cry. Part with relief, part fear at what had so nearly happened.  
  
Steve and Mark pulled up outside the hospital at around 4pm. They went inside together and Steve walked into the psych ward to admit himself. His road to recovery had finally begun. 


	2. 

Part 8 - The journey begins.  
  
Mark was walking down the corridor to his office, deep in thought when Jesse spotted him. "Hey Mark," he called out, but Mark carried on without hearing him. Unperturbed Jesse moved after him and caught up "Mark?" No response. "Hey Mark." Jesse touched his coat and finally got a reaction.  
  
"What, oh Jesse! Hi." Mark responded, shaking his head as if to clear it and then turning to look at his friend.  
  
"Hey, I've been trying to catch up with you, I wanted to know if you and Steve wanted company tonight?"  
  
"Me and Steve?" Mark was momentarily confused, then it dawned on him, of course, Jesse didn't know. The last time Mark had spoken to him had been after the one o'clock phone call when everything seemed fine. "Jesse," Mark began, " there have been some developments. Could you get Amanda and meet me in the doctor's lounge and I'll explain." He needed Amanda there for the explanation. He didn't think he'd be able to get it out twice.  
  
"Developments?" asked Jesse puzzled for the first time noticing that Mark seemed more troubled than he had earlier in the day. " But I thought everything was okay. Is it Steve? is there?"  
  
"Jesse!" Mark interrupted sharply, then seeing the shocked look on his young friends face his tone softened. "Look just get Amanda and I'll explain everything."  
  
"Ok," Jesse said, a little bewildered "We'll be there as soon as we can."  
  
"Thank you," said Mark wearily and he headed off to the lounge deep in thought.  
  
Jesse watched him for a few steps then hurried in the direction of the path lab to find Amanda. Whatever had happened, it had rattled Mark and Jesse suspected that both he and Amanda would be needed by their friend.  
  
  
  
Throughout his evaluation interview with Dr Carter, Steve maintained the same air of detached calm that he had had at the beach house when talking to his father,. It was as if he was watching somebody else talk. The words were coming out of his mouth but it didn't really feel like he was saying them. The whole experience was less real than some dreams that he had had.  
  
Once Steve had been admitted he had been shown round the unit and taken to his room so that he could leave his things. Then he had been brought straight to Dr Carter's office.  
  
She had the difficult job of attempting to assess Steve, knowing that the symptoms he was displaying could be caused as a result of the trauma of his attack, the drugs that had been used on him, or even the head trauma and severe concussion that he had undoubtedly suffered. Still, the likely causes would have to be unraveled at a later date, so that appropriate treatments could be used. For now she had to assess Steve's current state of mind and how much of a threat he still was to himself and possibly to others.  
  
The introductions and explanations of her role and what she was hoping to do in the session took Dr Carter a few minutes. For the whole of the time, Steve stared not quite at her but at a point just above her left shoulder. He looked calm, almost passive. She did not like the signs.  
  
"Steve, I need you to answer some questions for me. Do you know where you are?"  
  
"Yes"  
  
"Could you tell me." No response. " Steve can you tell me where you are?"  
  
"Community General Hospital"  
  
"And do you know why you are here?"  
  
"Yes"  
  
"Can you tell me?"  
  
"No," but that wasn't true, "Yes," but it was so hard, "Maybe"  
  
"Can you tell me about what happened two days ago"  
  
Emphatically, "No! Not that,"  
  
'Ok' thought Dr Carter 'let's start with something easier.' "Can you tell me about today." A long pause, "Steve?"  
  
"I think so."  
  
"What happened today?"  
  
"I was going to," he struggled to phrase it, "I was going to hurt myself." He thought a little more. "I thought it would be better," pause, "easier, if I wasn't around."  
  
"Do you mean 'hurt' yourself?  
  
"No"  
  
"What do you mean?"  
  
"I was going to kill myself." It took a great deal of effort for Steve to get this sentence out.  
  
"Did you plan how you were going to do it?"  
  
"Yes"  
  
"How?"  
  
"I was going to use tablets. I sorted everything out"  
  
"What do you mean 'sorted everything out?'"  
  
"All my things, my affairs, everything was ready except," Steve paused again.  
  
Dr Carter waited patiently until it was clear that he was not going to continue. "What Steve? What was it that wasn't ready?"  
  
"The note, I couldn't write the note, I knew I couldn't make my father understand. He would have blamed himself."  
  
Encouraging, there was something there to work with, until Steve continued. "He had left me alone against his better judgement so I couldn't do it then. He would have blamed himself. I couldn't do that to him. "  
  
"And now?"  
  
"I don't know, maybe. I'd do anything to stop feeling, or should I say 'not feeling' like I do now."  
  
"What do you mean 'not feeling'?"  
  
"It's like," he thought for a minute. "A void? I don't know that I feel anything. I just know that it is awful being like this and I'd be better off.." He let it hang.  
  
"Dead?" completed Dr Carter.  
  
Steve didn't answer he just gave the slightest nod. There was a long silence. Dr Turner wanted to go back to her gentle prompting but she sensed that Steve had something else to say, so she waited.  
  
"I can't take the look in people's eyes," he said eventually.  
  
"What look?"  
  
Steve stared the Dr in the face for the first time in the discussion. "It's in your eyes now. It was in my dad's, Jesse's this morning." He looked back down towards the floor.  
  
"What look?" The Dr repeated.  
  
"Pity," he said, looking back up at her. "They looked at me this morning and all I could see in their eyes was pity." There were tears in his own eyes. "I don't think I can live with that."  
  
Dr Carter met his gaze. "Do you really think I pity you?"  
  
He stared back "Don't you?"  
  
"No, but I do want to help you and I believe that I can. What I need is for you to believe that I can help." Steve could not hold her gaze any longer. He looked down, at his hands this time. "Do you believe that? Do you believe that I can help you?" She continued. There was another long pause.  
  
"I don't know?"  
  
"Will you try?"  
  
"I guess that's why I came here"  
  
"Good. That will do for today. I'll get one of he nurses to come and take you back to your room and Dr Turner would like to come up and have a look at you. You are still technically his patient, he'd like to check how you are healing"  
  
"Fine" said Steve and sat passively until the nurse came to take him back to his room. Dr Carter watched as the nurse was forced to take his arm and guide him out of the chair and out of the room. She sat for a long moment deep in thought. 'This was not going to be easy.' Then she settled down to write her report.  
  
Part 9 - How Can We Help?  
  
Mark was seated at a table in the corner, polishing his glasses, something, anything to keep him occupied. Jesse noticed with the skill of one taught to observe physical symptoms, the slight shake in his hands. He and Amanda sat down.  
  
They waited not sure if Mark wanted them to ask or not, both deciding to let him tell them whatever it was in his own time.  
  
Mark patiently and quietly explained the events of the afternoon up to the point where Steve had checked himself in to the hospital. Neither of them interrupted or asked questions until it was clear that he had finished. Even then they both sat quietly for a few minutes too stunned to speak.  
  
Amanda was the first to break the silence. "I can't believe this is happening. Steve is so strong. I wouldn't have believed something could make him deteriorate so quickly."  
  
"I think it's his strength that's the problem here," Mark said quietly, "That and his pride. Steve is the victim in this case and for the first time in his adult life, it's not because he's a cop"  
  
"So you think that Steve can't handle being the victim of a crime instead of the one that's working to solve it?" Asked Jesse.  
  
"Yes, every other time he's had a problem, or injury for as long as I can remember it's been related to the work that he does and although it's still hard, I think he can handle it. But this!"  
  
"So what can we do to help?" Jesse said looking at Mark.  
  
"This time I don't know," said Mark dejectedly, going back to polishing his glasses. "This time I just don't know."  
  
Jesse shot Amanda a glance that said 'how do we answer that?' They were both so used to Mark taking the lead and having all of the ideas.  
  
"I know one thing that we can do," said Amanda with determination. "We can catch the guy who did this to him."  
  
Jesse looked at Mark remembering the reaction from the day before. "What do you say Mark? Steve's being well looked after and there is nothing we can do until we are allowed to see him. Let's occupy ourselves with getting this guy off the streets?"  
  
Mark looked up and across at the faces of his younger companions. Did he have the energy to do this? They were looking at him with a mixture of hope and expectation on their faces. He didn't have the will to disappoint them. Besides he needed something to keep himself busy.  
  
"Well ok, I don't guarantee to be at my best." He looked at them again. "You two have been working on this already haven't you?" They both nodded. "So fill me in on what you've got."  
  
Amanda had been back in touch with detective Turner and had analysed some trace evidence from Steve's case and compared it with what had been found on the other victims. There were matches between all four cases and Steve's. All the evidence suggested detective Turner was right. The attacks were all by the same person.  
  
Meanwhile Jesse had asked and been allowed by detective Turner to look at the case files and review what scant information had been given by the witnesses. There was very little. As detective Turner had said, most victims were reluctant to talk or could not remember much about what had happened.  
  
Eventually they decided to call Detective Turner and see if he wanted to come down and discuss the case, after all he had three months head start on them. Mark pulled the card out of his pocket, where he had placed it the first time they had met and dialed. Detective Turner answered almost immediately. Despite the late hour he said he would be right over. They arranged to meet at he beach house. Jesse was going to stay the night to make sure Mark was alright and for that matter, he decided, he needed the company himself. Steve was so close to him. So close to them all. Amanda would ,however, have to leave later, the sitter couldn't stay over and she needed to pick up the boys.  
  
Detective Turner was visibly disappointed when he learned that Steve had told them nothing more, but this was replaced by genuine concern when Jesse told him of Steve's condition.  
  
"All the more reason we need to catch this maniac and get him off the streets. God knows how many lives he's ruined already." Turner said with feeling. Then he turned to Mark "I can only imagine how difficult all this is for you Dr Sloan and I am grateful that you've decided to help. You have quite a reputation for helping solve crimes."  
  
"Please call me Mark and I'll do all I can to help but I don't think I can tell you much more than you already know."  
  
"Do you know anything about what happened that night."  
  
"Only that Steve called to say that he would not be home because he had a date"  
  
"Yes, that fits in with what we know. After we found Steve's car, we canvassed all businesses in the local area. Turned out that Steve had a meal with a young woman," he flipped open his notebook " At the Almeira Restaurant. The woman is described as Brunette, around 5' 6" to 5' 8", blue eyes, 120 lbs. They left at around 9.30 pm through the side entrance and, as far as we are aware, he wasn't seen again until you found him here the following afternoon."  
  
That comment brought back a sharp and painful image for Mark, for a split second, he was there again, looking at the huddled , scared figure of his son. Knowing now why he had looked like that made the memory all the more difficult to cope with. With effort he pushed the scene out of his mind and pulled himself back to the present. Everyone was looking at him expectantly. He had obviously been asked a question that he had missed..  
  
"I'm sorry," he said, "I was miles away."  
  
"Do you know who Steve's date was? Was he seeing anyone?" Turner asked again patiently.  
  
"No, I don't think so. He hadn't even planned on going out that evening. That's one of the reasons he called. We'd arranged to have a talk through one of his cases, once I got in from work."  
  
"That fits in with what I thought."  
  
"What?" asked Jesse.  
  
"Well it follows the pattern of all of the other attacks. Each time the victim is on the first date with a beautiful young woman."  
  
"Do you think she's involved?" Asked Amanda intrigued.  
  
"In the attacks themselves, no, I don't think so, but in setting the victim up? Yes I think there is someone aiding this guy."  
  
"Isn't that unusual?" Jesse asked "I mean I thought this sort of crime was usually a lone attacker."  
  
"It does give the case more sinister overtones. Whoever is doing this is highly organised and if they are using an accomplice to help set people up then they are almost certainly psychotic. That's why I'm worried that the next victim may not survive. The level of violence is escalating with each attack."  
  
"Ok detective," said Mark, "then we'd better start going over everything we've got to see if there's anything we've missed."  
  
"Then we can decide where to start tomorrow." Jesse added.  
  
And with that the group began going through all of the material one more time, looking for anything that might give them a lead.  
  
Dr Taylor did not like what he heard. He had spoken to Dr Carter who had given him a complete report on her findings, and all the signs suggested that Steve's concussion may have caused some permanent neurological damage. Steve's behaviour could be explained by psychological or physical trauma, but which was unclear. Either, or a combination of the two could cause the change in his mental state. What they had to assess between them, over the next few days was which it was. A mistake in diagnosis could cause the wrong treatment with disastrous consequences.  
  
Dr Taylor was no further reassured after seeing his patient. The wound on his head, having reopened and become infected was only just starting to heal again. He was still not happy that Steve had recovered from the concussion, although Steve would not admit to continuing headaches or nausea. Dr Taylor sensed that Steve would not tell him the whole truth. Still he had no choice but to get a nurse to redress the wounds and give Steve a mild sedative to help him sleep. Just in case he left instructions for the nurses to check on Steve half hourly through the night and inform him of any change.  
  
  
  
Part 10 Another Crisis  
  
The next day Steve woke up angry and what was worse his anger did not have a focus. It was like viewing the world through a red haze. He had snapped at the nurse who came in to check on him and had remained sullenly uncooperative as she tried to carry out her checks. When he went to the bathroom he had been unable to find his comb straight away, so he had thrown his washbag across the room, in frustration. The contents flew everywhere with the force of the impact, and he stormed back into the bedroom, where he stood fists clenched, fuming and trying to bring himself back under control.  
  
After a couple of minutes of breathing heavily he managed to calm himself a little. He had squeezed his fists so tightly his nails were cutting into the palms of his hands. So with effort he relaxed them. He stood for a few more minutes, trying to make sense of what was happening to him. He knew he had a temper but usually he at least had a reason to react. Unable to clear his thoughts enough to think rationally, he only knew that he needed to do something to calm himself down.  
  
Under normal circumstances Steve would have gone for a run along the beach, working off his anger and frustration with intense physical activity usually helped, but that was impossible here. Then he remembered the gym. It was part of the ward that patients had free access to in their free time. He could work out his anger there.  
  
Steve quickly changed into a sweat suit and headed off to find the gym. He was vaguely aware of a nagging thought, some sort of comment made to him on the tour the day before, something about being able to use the gym in a few days. 'Why not now?' He asked himself but he realised he didn't know the answer. So he ignored the question and set about a brisk warm up.  
  
There was a nurse permanently on station around the gym when it was open. Just to ensure that the patients did not injure themselves. When Steve entered, there were three other patients already in there. Nurse Sherman noted the new patient who had entered. 'Hmm not bad' she thought, noticing his tall, muscular physique. His face however, looked pale and drawn, his eyes slightly puffy. 'Shame,' she thought 'That he should find himself in here.' He began to warm up as she continued to watch but her attention was soon drawn away to one of the other patients who was using a piece of equipment dangerously. She went over to stop him before he hurt himself.  
  
Steve felt a little shaky even during his warm up but he was in no mood to take things easy. Having done the bare minimum to stop muscle damage he launched into a punishing set of circuit training exercises on a variety of machines. Had he been thinking rationally, he would have slowed down, or stopped after the first set, when the first wave of dizziness hit him. He was not, however, thinking rationally and so he just shook his head in a vain attempt to clear it and then carried on, pushing himself harder and harder on each set. As he attempted to get up after 1000m on the rowing machine, his body refused to respond. The world was now swimming alarmingly and his breathing was ragged and out of control. He made one more attempt to push himself to his feet but only succeeded in rising a few inches before he blacked out completely, crashing heavily to the floor.  
  
Nurse Sherman turned from the patient she had been helping and rushed to Steve's side calling for help as she moved. It took her only seconds to realise that Steve's condition was serious. His breathing was shallow and erratic and his pulse was racing. When she checked, his pupils did not respond. Emergency procedures were started immediately as everyone went into a well practiced routine.  
  
Jesse heard Dr Taylor being paged to come immediately to the psych ward and although it was not unheard of for this to happen, it was rare. He immediately took an interest, after all the psych ward was where Steve was, and Steve was Dr Taylor's patient.  
  
By the time Jesse had finished with his patient, covered himself for a few minutes in the ER and made his way to the psych ward, Steve was already being wheeled out. Seeing him on the guerney, having been intubated so that he could be helped to breathe and with two IV lines, Jesse realised instantly the potential seriousness of his friend's condition.  
  
"Steve," he called out, "What happened?"  
  
Seeing Dr Travis approaching Dr Taylor gave quick instructions to the other staff attending Steve, who continued to move him down the corridor and he stopped to talk to his young colleague. "Dr Travis"  
  
Jesse interrupted him. "What's going on? What happened? Steve hasn't tried to harm himself again has he?"  
  
"Dr Travis, calm down and I'll tell you what I can," said Dr Taylor, he placed his hand on Jesse's arm and this seemed to calm the younger man down.  
  
" Steve hasn't tried to hurt himself, at least not deliberately, we don't think, but he did go for a workout in the gym this morning."  
  
"But he still hasn't recovered from the concussion. He shouldn't be doing anything but the lightest of exercise."  
  
"I know and he was told to take it easy and not to think about using the gym for several days yet, but he seems to have ignored the advice."  
  
"So what's happened to him?"  
  
"I'm not sure yet. The vigorous exercise, coupled with the concussion appears to have caused some swelling of the brain. I'm not sure yet of the extent or whether there has been any hemorrhaging. I've stabilized him and we're taking him for a CAT Scan now.  
  
I've also paged the neurosurgeon and he has a team standing by just in case. I'm sorry Jess but I'm going to have to get back to him. As soon as I know any more I'll let you know."  
  
Jesse was stunned and by the time he replied, Dr Taylor was already rushing after his patient. "Yes, of course," he said to the retreating figure. He stood motionless for a few more minutes, trying to put all that he had heard into perspective and using his medical knowledge to give a possible prognosis on his friend's condition. Even in the most favourable of circumstances it did not look good. He silently cursed the knowledge that he had, which was making him feel so negative. Then his thoughts turned to Mark. Did he know yet? If not then it was up to Jesse to tell him. With a heavy heart he shook himself out of his reverie and set off to look for his friend. The news this time, following so closely on all that had already happened would, Jesse knew, be devastating, but there was no way to protect Mark from it, only to help him deal with it.  
  
Mark was in his office. He was not in the mood for dealing with patients and so had negotiated with some of the residents to cover for him for a few days. Instead he busied himself with research reports and reports on students in the med school. The third years were about to change rotations in a couple of weeks and this meant reports from their mentors and colleagues had to be read and filed and information prepared for their new assignments. Mark had agreed to sort this out.  
  
There was a knock at the door and Mark called out for whoever it was to come in. It was Jesse who entered and Mark opened his mouth with a greeting that froze on his lips as he saw the look on Jesse's face. "Oh my god. Steve! What's happened Jess" Mark said intuitively recognising that something was wrong and that it involved his son. He jumped up and moved towards the younger man grabbing his arms and shaking him before Jesse could formulate his answer "What's happened?" Mark repeated his anxiety escalating rapidly.  
  
"We're not sure yet, Mark." Jesse said attempting to free himself from the hands that clutched his arms. "Come on, calm down and I'll explain," he said, staring into Marks eyes. " Breathe slowly and deeply, that's it, slowly and deeply."  
  
Still gripped by near panic, driven by the emotional roller coaster that he had been on for the last few days it took all of Mark's remaining self control to follow Jesse's advice. He released his grip and attempted to control his breathing. Jesse waited until Mark's breathing was once again steady and even before he continued. "There is no need to panic at the moment, but Steve collapsed in the gym. We're still not sure of the exact cause. They're running tests now."  
  
"Oh God no," said Mark and far from returning to his panicked state, he visibly deflated and sank into a chair. "Can I see him?" He asked weakly.  
  
"When they've finished the tests, they'll take him to ICU. We can go up there and wait if you'd like?"  
  
"Yes, thankyou," said Mark standing as though the weight of the world were on his shoulders and they headed together for ICU.  
  
Jesse sat with Mark and filled him in on as much as he knew about Steve's condition, trying unsuccessfully to hide his own fears about just how serious it was likely to be. He had now had time to consider all of the possible consequences. Vigorous exercise had increased blood flow to the tissue already damaged by the concussion. This had caused at the very least swelling, and possibly burst blood vessels, damaged cells and even hemorrhaging in the brain. Automatic functions like heartbeat, respiration and temperature regulation could all shut down. If Steve survived then any part of his physical or mental functioning could be impaired. If he survived. Jesse tried hard to push that last thought out of his mind.  
  
Mark sat waiting, trying hard, like Jesse, not to give up hope. Until the tests came back, until they knew if surgery were needed, then no real prognosis could be given. He could not and would not dwell on what might happen. The only way he was going to be able to deal with this was to remain positive and wait for the facts. But it was so hard.  
  
Finally Dr Taylor came to talk to them. "It looks like we may have been lucky," he began, reassuring both men with his words. "There was some swelling of the brain that caused him to collapse but as far as we can tell no hemorrhaging so we did not have to operate. We packed his skull in ice to bring the swelling down and I've got him sedated to prevent movement until he's out of danger but he's breathing on his own and it could have easily been so much worse."  
  
"Can I see him?" Said Mark his voice shaky; a mixture of concern and relief.  
  
"Yes, of course. You can sit with him. He's in ICU 7."  
  
Jesse and Mark did not need telling twice and they headed off to Steve's room. Jesse let Mark go in first and left it a few minutes before he followed.  
  
Mark entered the room and looked at the still, pale form of his only son. The tears began to flow down his cheeks as he walked over to the bed. His tall strong son looked so delicate, so fragile, lying there. Mark was grateful that his son was still alive and yet fearful about what the future held. After the events of the last few days, he was no longer sure that he had the strength to help his son through this latest crisis. Seeing him like this, it was too hard, just too hard. He sat down and put his hand on his son's and just held it.  
  
Jesse entered and watched Mark for a minute or two. Deciding there was nothing he could usefully do, he set off to find Amanda. He needed to tell her what was happening. 


	3. 

1 Part 11- The Next Attack  
  
  
  
Peter Carpenter was tall, tanned and muscular, successful in business and able to demand an hourly rate for his services that would make even an accountant blush. Yet for all that his private life was something of a disaster. Too interested in developing his career when he was younger to hold down any sort of relationship for long; they usually ended with his girlfriends leaving him a 'dear John' note for when he got back from his latest last minute business trip. He had fallen into a cycle of work, exercise and sleep that he now found difficult to break. His only real socialising was work related parties and dinner with associates. Recently, however, he had started to take stock of his life. He was now 35 and he felt that there was something missing; something unfulfilled, and so he had set about the difficult task of dating again, or at least attempting to.  
  
That was how he found himself sitting alone in a downtown bar. He was finding it more difficult than he remembered, the lack of practice making him shy and insecure, despite his obvious good looks. He was therefore extremely pleased when the beautiful redhead approached and made it obvious that she was interested and relieved when she did not wait for him to make the first move. Within minutes they were chatting like old friends.  
  
Two hours later, having had a pleasant meal together, Peter followed Stacey out of the restaurant. He had barely taken a couple of sips out of his last drink. She was so keen to take him somewhere more intimate. So they had left the restaurant together out of one of the side doors and now he followed her down a dark alley toward where she said she had left her car.  
  
Realising that they were completely alone, Peter caught up with her and placed his hands on her shoulders, pulling her towards him and nuzzling into her neck. She did not resist and he gently turned her round. He moved in for a long lingering kiss once she faced him. He felt strange, intoxicated, is this how it made you feel? It had been so long he had almost forgotten.  
  
She responded to his kiss but then pulled away. "Not here eh? It'll be much better once we get back to my apartment." With that she took his hand and continued walking. Disappointed Peter held her hand, walking beside her now, and they moved on toward the car. As they rounded the next corner, Peter once again made a move, using the hold he already had on her hand and their change of direction to swing her body into his until they were facing each other in an embrace. He moved to kiss her again.  
  
At that point his vision exploded into an avalanche of sparks and he felt a sharp pain in the back of his head. He lost consciousness and crumpled to the floor, dragging his arms down the sides of Stacey's body as he fell. He slumped to the side as he hit the floor the last vestiges of grip gone from his muscles.  
  
It took all of Stacey's self control not to scream as she watched her handsome partner collapse to the floor. The shock lasted a few seconds before she could speak. " What did you hit him for? We were almost back at the car this time." She tried to keep the anger and the fear out of her voice, remembering the last time she had challenged the stranger, who now stood grinning before her.  
  
"He was all over you and I didn't like it." The dark figure replied.  
  
"Look that last guy you hit almost died. I read about it in the paper. There was no mention of how he was injured but I recognised the photograph."  
  
"So?" Said the stranger coldly. There was a dangerous change in the tone of his voice.  
  
Despite her rising anxiety Stacey continued to question her 'employer.' "Hey look, I agreed to help you out so you'd keep me supplied and I don't really care what you do to these guys. It's just." she hesitated.  
  
"Yes"  
  
"It's just I don't want to get involved in no murder. So if that's what you're leading into, I want out." There she had said it.  
  
The stranger lost his patience and with a whirlwind of movement, grabbed Stacey under the throat with one hand and by the arm with the other. He pushed her roughly up against the alley wall squeezing just hard enough to make breathing uncomfortable and press the back of her head against the rough brickwork. "You will do exactly what I want you to do," he said icily. "Until I decide I want to stop. What I do and what happens is entirely my business and you," he pushed harder making her gasp for breath, "you pathetic little scavenger, will continue to follow my instructions until I give you permission to stop." He paused allowing the menace in his voice and actions to sink in. Then he squeezed even harder this time preventing her breathing altogether. She desperately tried to release his grip but he was too strong He continued to speak "Do I make myself clear?" She did not respond, his grip tightened. "I said, do I make myself clear?"  
  
Realising that he was looking for her to reply she did her best to nod her head, making what seemed to her a barely perceptible movement, it seemed to satisfy him and he dropped her roughly to the ground. She fell heavily, desperately gasping breath into her tortured lungs and gingerly rubbing her neck. 'Damn you, you bastard,' she thought but she had the sense to keep quiet.  
  
He stared dispassionately down at her, then threw a packet into her lap "There's more there than usual," he said. . His tone had changed completely as though he were carrying out a normal business transaction "Call it a bonus. Now get out of here and wait for my next call and remember," his tone returned to one of menace, "I know exactly where to find you."  
  
Stacey nodded and pulled herself quickly to her feet. She was just beginning to realise how dangerously insane this man was and it was too late for her to do anything other than follow his orders. She clutched the precious pack of heroin to her chest and ran off into the night to seek comfort in the drug hazed high she knew would take the fear and anger away, at least for a time.  
  
The stranger looked down at the prone form in front of him. "Time to play," he said to the unconscious figure and picked him up moving off into the night.  
  
2 Part 12 - The Waiting is the Worst Part  
  
When Jesse returned at the end of his shift. Mark was in exactly the same position as when he had left hours earlier, sitting quietly by his son's bedside holding his hand. He had been talking softly and he paused as Jesse entered the room. Jesse walked over and put his hand on Mark's shoulder in a gentle show of support.  
  
Mark spoke to Jesse but he did not take his eyes off his son's face. "Hi Jess, I'm afraid there's been no change, although I wouldn't be expecting one yet, if he were my patient." He spoke softly his voice sounded as though it would crack at any minute. "I've been talking to him all afternoon, although I'm not sure if he can hear me."  
  
"I'm sure that he can," Jesse said comfortingly giving Mark's shoulder a slight squeeze to reinforce his words. He sat down and looked at Mark. He was concerned at his old friend's appearance. He looked pale and tired. "You don't look like you have moved all day. Have you eaten anything?"  
  
"I'm fine."  
  
"That's not what I asked. You've been here all day, have you eaten?"  
  
"No, the nurses asked earlier, but I wasn't hungry."  
  
"Then you're coming to the cafeteria with me right now."  
  
"No Jess," Mark turned to look at him for the first time. "I can't, I won't leave him."  
  
"But Mark you need to keep your strength up. It won't do Steve any good if you get ill. We'll only be gone a little while, half an hour tops. Steve will be fine."  
  
"No, I can't leave him again."  
  
"You'll just be down the hall," Jesse replied, knowing that he was fighting a losing battle.  
  
Mark's agitation was increasing. "I know Jess but don't you see, every time I leave him it just keeps getting worse and" he paused barely managing to keep his voice under control. " I don't think I could take it if anything else happened."  
  
Jesse was shocked by the comment; Mark wasn't blaming himself for what had happened. Was he? "Mark there's no way you could have known." Jesse started but he was interrupted.  
  
"I knew what state he was in at the house yesterday morning and I left him alone," Mark said bitterly "and look what almost happened."  
  
"You're not being fair on yourself. Steve was very convincing. I was there remember. You thought we were helping him, we both did."  
  
"And the day before. He was clearly hurting and I sat in my office doing paperwork whilst he walked home in despair and.." The words and the memories they recalled finally got too much for Mark to say and he broke down the tears running silently down his cheeks as he sat back in the chair, his eyes closed tight, his fists clenched.  
  
Jesse waited a minute or two before he said gently but firmly. "Mark you can't blame yourself for any of this. There's nothing more you could have done and no way you could have known what would happen. You were simply trying to do your best for Steve. You know that, I know that and most importantly Steve knows that."  
  
Mark listened struggling to regain his composure. "Yes Jess but my best just wasn't good enough. Look at him." He gestured to Steve's pale form. "I'm not going to leave him again."  
  
Jesse knew there was no point in arguing any further. Mark was not going to be persuaded to move from Steve's bedside until he was completely out of danger. They both sat in silence for a number of minutes.  
  
Mark fought to bring his spiraling emotions back under control. "Thanks Jess," he said finally, "for being here, for Steve and for me."  
  
"You've always been there for me," Jesse replied. He somehow didn't feel that just being there was enough and if he felt that way, how much more difficult must it be for Mark, Steve's father. He looked at the pain and the worry etched on Mark's face and knew that he could do little to help, but whatever he could do he would. Then he remembered how they had got into this conversation and he returned to the practical "If there's one thing you have taught me it is to be pragmatic. So if you won't come and get something to eat, I'll get you something and bring it back but you must promise to eat it."  
  
"Fine," said Mark the hint of a smile crossing his face at his young friend's tenacity. "Would you do me another favour?"  
  
"Anything."  
  
"Would you stop by the beach house and pick up some things for me?"  
  
Jesse and Amanda arrived at the beach house at about 8 pm. Amanda had been working a late shift and Jesse had waited for her to finish. He had not wanted to be alone for the drive to the beach house and back, and was relieved to find that Amanda was in similar need of company.  
  
They pulled into the drive and both sat staring at the house in which they had had such good times. Somehow, with no lights in the half moonlight the house seemed to reflect the state of its occupants; normally buzzing with energy and full of life, it was now cold, dark and empty. Eventually it was Amanda who moved and shook them both out of their brooding.  
  
"Come on, I've got the list of things Mark needs." She climbed out of the car and walked up the drive, Jesse followed.  
  
Once in the house they quickly assembled the things Mark had asked for and were about to leave when Jesse remembered something. "My jacket," he said speaking his thought aloud. Amanda gave him a quizzical look. "My jacket," he repeated, "I left it here the other night when I came to help Mark with Steve. I left it down in Steve's apartment." He moved off towards the stairs as he was speaking. "I'll just get it I won't be a minute," and with that he bounded down the stairs. Amanda flopped down on the couch to wait for him.  
  
It was only when he did not return for several minutes that Amanda started to get frustrated. 'What's taking him so long" she thought to herself. As the minutes ticked by the frustration was replaced with concern. Eventually she called out, "Jesse what's taking you so long? Can't you find it?" she stood up and moved towards the stairs. "Jesse?"  
  
At that moment Jesse reappeared at the top of the stairs, his face ashen white as if he had seen a ghost. "Jesse what's wrong." She asked with concern moving over to him.  
  
Jesse's mouth moved but no sound came out. He simply could not get the words out. Instead he gestured helplessly at the stairs down to Steve's apartment. Amanda looked from him to the stairs and back again. It was clear that she was going to get no sense out of him for several minutes. Whatever he had seen had shaken him pretty badly. She was going to have to go and look for herself.  
  
She steeled herself and walked down the stairs. When she got to the bottom, she gasped in shock at what she saw. She was so used to the way Steve arranged things in his living room that what confronted her shook her deeply. It was so different. It looked like someone was moving out and had everything packed for the removals firm. There were neat piles of stuff everywhere some of it boxed, some loose.  
  
She walked over to one of the piles and realised that it had a card on the top. 'Jesse,' it read. She moved to another 'Amanda,' and another 'CJ,', 'Carol,' 'Dad.' Each pile had a name on it some of them she recognised as colleagues of Steve's. It was then that the implications of what she was seeing finally hit her. Steve had sorted out all of his things to leave to them after his death, after he had killed himself. She had known about what Steve had attempted to do but up until that moment the full horror of what had so nearly happened hadn't really registered. They had really nearly lost him. All that would have remained were these few piles of things and their memories.  
  
She moved back to the pile labeled "CJ," the item on top was a worn baseball glove that Steve always used when playing with her son. The tears began to roll down her cheeks as she clutched the glove to her chest. She moved to the pile with her name on it. On top was a photograph of Steve and CJ at the funfair; they had had such a good time that day. Remembering the happy times here, like this, however, just made the whole situation seem more painful. She heard a noise behind her and she realised that Jesse had joined her.  
  
"He was going to leave me his favourite book and some of his old motorcycle magazines. I don't even like motorcycles," said Jesse, the emotion clear in his voice.  
  
"Oh Jesse," was all Amanda could articulate before she rushed over to him and buried her head in his shoulder crying uncontrollably now, still clutching the worn glove. Jesse held onto her giving what comfort he could but crying himself. The emotions of the last few days, emotions that they had both managed to keep control of until now, caught them up and it was many minutes before either of them was ready to leave.  
  
By the time they got back to the hospital it was after 9.30 pm. Mark was still sitting in the same place but he was leaning back in the chair. Jesse was relieved to see that he had eaten at least some of the sandwich he had brought.  
  
Mark looked up as they entered and noticed that they had both been crying. 'This is so hard on everyone,' he thought. He spoke to them forcing as much cheer into his voice as he could. "Thanks for coming back guys."  
  
"That's ok," Amanda said. "I think that we got everything you asked for." She looked at Steve, "how's he doing."  
  
"Good, considering," Mark replied. "Dr Taylor checked in before he went home for the night. The swellings gone down and he seems to be responding normally, but he wants to keep him sedated until there is no further danger of convulsions. He reckons a couple of days just to be sure. So now all we can do is wait," and waiting was going to be so very hard.  
  
  
  
3 Part 13 Dead and Alive  
  
It was about 4 pm the next day when Amanda got the call to come to a murder scene. The body had been dumped in an alley about 10 blocks from the hospital. When she arrived the scene was cordoned off about 50 ft from where the body lay on both sides, in an attempt to keep the vultures and ghouls of the press from getting too detailed an image, at least until the body had been removed.  
  
Amanda did her preliminary assessment and declared the man dead at the scene. He had a large wound on the back of his head but the cause of death looked like strangulation. Amanda assessed the guy's weight at around 150 lbs, height 6'2", brown hair and aged around 30 - 35. She went over to talk to the Detective on the scene whilst the crime scene photographers finished up. The body was placed in a black body bag and zipped up.  
  
"I 'm guessing he died around 1 am. I'll be able to confirm that when I get him back to the path lab," Amanda told the Detective as they both watched the body being loaded onto the coroner's wagon. "If you stop by around 6, I should have finished at least the preliminary report."  
  
The young homicide Detective was appreciative of the cooperation. He had worked with Amanda a couple of times now and knew from experience that pathologists were not always as efficient and thorough. He agreed to stop by for the report and Amanda headed back to the hospital with the body.  
  
Jesse was on his break. It had been a fairly quiet day in the ER and part of Jesse wished that it had been busier so that he wouldn't have so much time to think. Then again if it was busy in the ER then that meant more people ill and injured and no physician truly wanted that. For the fifth time that day he headed up to ICU to check on Steve and Mark. He doubted that Mark had got much sleep if the bags under his eyes were anything to go by, but at least the news on Steve was as good as it could be. There was no sign of any further damage or swelling and all of Steve's reflex motor functions appeared to be normal. Dr Taylor was ready to reduce the sedatives tomorrow and allow Steve to wake up.  
  
All of this was good news and had it been another patient, the relatives and friends might have been greatly encouraged by the positive comments, but Mark and Jesse were both doctors and knew that the next stage of Steve's recovery would be critical. They knew all too well the possible and the probable outcomes of the trauma Steve had gone through. Although there had been no major hemorrhaging, they could not rule out microscopic bleeding within the brain, whilst it was swollen. Nor could they rule out damage to individual brain cells and the formation of scar tissue. The possible consequences of this could be anything from amnesia to paralysis. There were no guarantees that Steve would even wake up, despite the positive signs. Jesse had to suppress not for the first time the image of his friend in a permanent vegetative state unable to respond to anything but the most rudimentary of stimuli.' It couldn't be that bad. The CT scan would have shown up damage that severe,' he told himself. But the truth was no one knew for sure what condition Steve would be in until he came round and that was what made the waiting now so hard.  
  
Amanda looked at the corpse on the table and began to record her findings on to tape. "The subject is one Peter Carpenter," she began. He had been identified by a driving license found in his back pocket and she had been right about his age 35. She continued to recite her assessment of his physical characteristics and paused to look at his face. Such a shame he had been quite good looking. Still years of experience had taught her not to dwell on what her 'patients' had been like when they were alive. In her job that could destroy you.  
  
She went on to list the obvious injuries before she began her more detailed analysis. The head injury was first; from the external signs, it had been a vicious blow, possibly enough to cause a skull fracture but probably not enough to kill him. The marks on his throat showed that he had been strangled with two hands and this was almost certainly the cause of death. She moved down to check the body for other cuts and contusions. That was when she noticed the marks on his wrists where he had clearly been bound and she let out an involuntary gasp. She stopped the running commentary that had accompanied her examination and stared for a full minute before she realized that the tape was still running and stopped it. She examined the marks more carefully. There was no doubt about it; she had seen marks exactly like these before.  
  
She quickly continued the examination, giving up for the time being on her report and instead looking directly for corroborating evidence of what she thought she had seen. With each thing she checked for there became less and less doubt, until finally she had the results back from the blood tests that she had asked to be rushed through. Then there was no question; the man who had attacked and killed Peter Carpenter was the same man who had attacked her friend Steve Sloan. Detective Turner had been right. Their serial attacker had just turned killer. Grimly Amanda turned and picked up the phone and dialed Detective Turner.  
  
"Nathan? It's Amanda, could you come to the hospital straight away. I have news about the case. I'll explain everything when you get here."  
  
When she had hung up Amanda quickly reviewed everything that she had found. The rope marks on Peter's wrists matched those on Steve's and he had an identical cocktail of drugs in his system and then there was the trace evidence. She had enough now that when they finally caught this guy there would be no doubt. She could give a positive DNA match from at least four of the victims. She pushed out of her mind the other marks she had seen and distanced herself from them. She now had a clearer picture than either Mark or Jesse of exactly what Steve had been through and the only way she could deal with it was to apply the same detached professionalism that she used when dealing with autopsies.  
  
She returned to her formal report, by the time Detective Turner arrived she wanted to have at least the preliminary report ready. She had already rung Detective Connor, the young homicide Detective that she'd met at the crime scene, to warn him not to come over until at least 8 for her report. She did not explain why. She thought she would leave that to Detective Turner, after all this was part of his case now.  
  
She was not going to be home until late again and cursed the fact that her kids would go to bed once again without seeing their mom. She would have to take the time to make it up to them.  
  
There was a knock on the door and Jesse entered. "Hey, I thought you were meeting me for coffee?" He said smiling at her.  
  
Amanda looked up from her report and rubbed her eyes, she looked at her watch it was gone seven. "I'm sorry Jess I didn't realise how late it was."  
  
Jesse continued to smile at her. He looked over at the autopsy table. "Interesting case huh?"  
  
She looked back at him and the intensity of her stare made Jesse stop smiling. "You'd better sit down," she said, and as he sat, she proceeded to fill him in on her findings. By the time Nathan Turner arrived Jesse had had chance to absorb all of the evidence.  
  
Nathan Turner entered the hospital and went directly to Amanda's lab. He was getting used to the route, having been there a few times to consult with Amanda on forensic evidence. He was grateful for the help that all three doctor's were giving him. This was not an easy case to pursue.  
  
He had been the investigating officer when the first attack had been reported. At first he thought he was dealing with a simple mugging but it quickly became clear that the victim was far too traumatised for that to be the case. Once he realised what sort of crime it was, he suddenly found a strange reticence amongst some of his colleagues to pursue it. He couldn't work out exactly why but there was lots of muttering about difficulty of finding the perpertrator, the reluctance of victims to talk and the difficulty of getting a conviction. For some reason crimes of a sexual nature brought out the most biggoted attitudes in some people. It was as if some thought that sweeping the whole thing under the carpet and forgetting about it would be best for everyone, even the victim.  
  
Detective Turner, however did not agree. He had seen the results and knew that the person responsible needed to be caught and punished. So he kept the case file open and followed it whenever he could, despite his mounting caseload elsewhere.  
  
Somehow he had known that the attack was not an isolated incident. He was vindicated when the second attack came to light but it was not until the attack on Detective Sloan that he had actually got the go ahead to follow this full time as his only case. He still did not feel however, that he was being given the necessary resources to investigate properly. That's why he was so grateful for the doctors' help. But now the powers that be would have to take him seriously. 'Damn,' he thought punching his fist into the wall of the elevator. 'Why had it taken someone's death for this to be taken seriously."  
  
Despite his eagerness to find out what Amanda had discovered. His first question when he arrived in the path lab was about Steve's condition. Jesse and Amanda both noticed and appreciated that. They were growing quite fond of the young detective. He was easy to work with. He listened intently as Amanda went through her findings once again for his benefit. When she had finished, she handed over her preliminary report. "I'll get the full report to you sometime tomorrow."  
  
"Thanks Amanda, you don't know how much help you've already been." Nathan said gratefully taking the file. "With this evidence the commisioner will have to set up a proper task force to investigate. We need to get this maniac off the streets before he kills someone else. I'd better get this back to the precinct. I've got a lot of work to do. I'll call you tomorrow." He stood up and moved towards the door "Jesse, Amanda, thanks again," and with that he left.  
  
Jesse and Amanda went up to see Steve and Mark together. They had discussed what, if anything, they should tell Mark of the latest developments in the case and, like the information about Steve's rearranged apartment from the night before, had decided that telling Mark could wait until after they knew how Steve was going to be. Mark had enough to think about for the time being. So they kept their conversation light and chatted about the more mundane aspects of the day.  
  
Mark was tired and every bone and muscle in his body ached from spending all of his time, even when he slept, in the chair by his son's bedside, but he was resolute in his decision not to leave his son's side. Jesse had however, persuaded Mark to allow the nurses to bring in a cot to the room for him to sleep on. Once Jesse and Amanda had left, he moved over to it and lowered himself gratefully on to it. He did not believe that he would be able to sleep but the emotional strain of the last few days had taken its toll on him and his head had barely touched the pillow when he fell into a deep and much needed sleep.  
  
The next day, true to his word Dr Taylor took Steve off the sedatives. Mark sat talking to his son for most of the morning but there was no movement or indication that he was aware of his surroundings.  
  
At around 2 pm, Mark was standing looking out of the window. He had got up to stretch his legs to try to alleviate some of the aching cramp that he was developing, when he heard the slightest of sounds behind him. He turned round and realised it was Steve. His hand was moving and his eyelids were fluttering as though he were trying to open them. "Steve," he called out rushing over to the bedside all thoughts of his tired aching muscles gone in the rush of adrenalin that he felt. He quickly pressed the call button to summon the nurse, then concentrated on his son. "Steve," he said clearly and firmly. "Steve can you hear me?"  
  
The nurse put her head round the door at that point. Mark looked up at her momentarily. She did not waste time on obvious comments or questions but merely said "I'll get Dr Taylor," and left.  
  
Mark was watching Steve as he struggled to open his eyes, finally succeeding he stared up at his father but it took a moment or two more for him to bring things into focus. "Dad?" he said weakly his voice barely coming out above a whisper. His throat felt like he had been sucking razor blades.  
  
Marks heart leapt with joy at that single word. His son recognised him, there was a real chance that he was going to be alright. "Oh Steve," Mark said not sure whether to laugh or cry. He compromised with a big smile for his son as simultaneously tears streamed down his cheeks. "Welcome back son"  
  
Steve was disoriented and confused. He tried to sit up to get a better view of his surroundings but his father pushed him gently back down.  
  
"No don't try to move yet," Mark said gently. "You've been through quite a trauma and you are in the hospital. Just rest"  
  
Steve obediently relaxed and laid his head back on the pillow. He was tired, so tired and he drifted off back to sleep.  
  
By the time he woke again, Dr Taylor had joined Mark in the room. Once again it took a while to get things into focus. Both men smiled at him as he looked up but it was Dr Taylor who spoke. "Ah back with us I see. You've had a blow to the head so I need to ask you some questions to assess your condition. Do you feel up to it."  
  
Steve was still a little confused but he nodded. That was a mistake. They weren't lying about the blow to the head. His head ached worse than he could ever remember. He winced slightly. "Yes," he said resolving to move as little as possible.  
  
"Good. Can you tell me your name?"  
  
"Steve, Steve Sloan"  
  
"Ok, good." The simple questions continued for a few more minutes. Then Steve was asked "What's the last thing that you can remember doing Steve?"  
  
Steve concentrated hard. He remembered coming out of the courthouse. They had just secured a conviction in the Martin case. The media was waiting for him on the steps. He had answered all of their questions and then excused himself and then.. And then. No it was no good that was all he could remember. He looked up at Dr Taylor "I was on the steps of the courthouse. I'd just come out after securing a conviction on Hank Martin. I don't remember anything after that. Is that where I was hit?"  
  
Mark and Dr Taylor looked at each other a concerned glance passing between them. The Martin case had closed about a week before Steve's attack. Steve was waiting for an answer to his question. "No Steve," Dr Taylor replied, "You don't remember anything after that?"  
  
Steve closed his eyes trying hard to think of anything that had happened after that. Eventually he gave up. "No, I'm sorry. That's the last thing I remember."  
  
"Right, you rest now. I'll be back in a little while to do some physical checks."  
  
"Ok," Steve said, once more relaxing back on the pillow.  
  
"I'll be right outside if you need me son," said Mark following Dr Taylor out of the room  
  
"Thanks dad."Steve closed his eyes and was asleep before either man was out of the door.  
  
Once outside on the corridor Dr Taylor turned to face Mark. It was Mark who spoke first using Dr Taylor's christian name instead of the more usual formal address "Well Bill what do you think?"  
  
"Better than I would have hoped for when I found him on Wednesday. There don't seem to be any residual effects apart from the amnesia, but obviously there are a lot more tests still to do."  
  
"What about the amnesia. Do you think it's permanent?"  
  
"Now come on Mark stop trying to put me on the spot. You know as well as I do that he could regain all or part of his memory at any time or he may never regain it"  
  
"Yes, I know and that gives us a huge dilema."  
  
Bill Taylor studied his colleagues' face. He had thought that Mark would be more relieved at the apparent positive prognosis on his son's condition but he was clearly deeply concerned about something. "Can you elaborate," he said.  
  
"Don't you understand. This means he doesn't remember the attack or its aftermath, the suicide attempt, nothing." Mark paused to let this sink in. For a brief moment Dr Taylor thought this could be a good thing until Mark continued, "but he could recall part or all of it at any time." He paused briefly again as if he didn't really want to finish what he was saying. "It was devastating enough on his psyche when it happened the first time around. Remembering it from cold could destroy him." Dr Taylor looked into Mark's pain filled eyes. "We can't afford to take that risk"  
  
"Which means," Dr Taylor continued Mark's line of thinking, "that we are going to have to tell him or help him to remember it, however painful it may be."  
  
Mark nodded. "It's the lesser of two evils."  
  
Dr Taylor thought for a few more minutes. "I'll contact Dr Carter and arrange a meeting. I think we will all have to be involved in this. Meanwhile, why don't you go back and sit with Steve. I'll be back later to run the other tests."  
  
"Thanks Bill and if you see Jesse and Amanda."  
  
"Yes, I'll fill them in," and with that he turned and moved off down the corridor. Mark walked back into the room to sit with his son. 


	4. 

1 Part 14 The Calm Before the Storm  
  
Steve spent the rest of the afternoon drifting in and out of sleep. Dr Taylor returned to complete the rest of that day's tests and was pleased with the outcome of all of them. He found a few quiet moments to talk to Mark about the meeting with Dr Carter. It had been arranged for the following morning at 8 am, until then they were just going to monitor Steve's condition.  
  
Mark had even been persuaded to leave his son and go for a walk around the hospital, whilst the tests were going on. He had been reluctant at first but soon appreciated the change of scenery and the chance to stretch his cramped muscles. He had a short walk around the hospital grounds. The fresh air did him good and gave him chance to think. For the first time since Wednesday he was feeling hopeful. The next few days in particular were going to be difficult but things could have been so much worse. In the pale late afternoon sunlight, he allowed himself the luxury of dwelling on the positive aspects of what had happened. Physically the signs were that Steve would make a full recovery and God willing, with the help and support of his family and friends he would recover from the psychological trauma too. By the time Mark went inside, he was feeling better than he had done in days. For this evening at least Steve and he could relax, before the work on his recovery began tomorrow.  
  
He returned inside still deep in thought and without really concentrating headed on autopilot for the pathology lab. He was not really watching where he was going and collided with Nathan Turner as he came out of Amanda's lab. The report Detective Turner had been carrying flew in the air and the pages scattered over the floor.  
  
"Detective Turner, I am so sorry," Mark began. "I was lost in thought and didn't see you. Here let me help." He bent down and started to help gather in the pages.  
  
Nathan was equally apologetic. If truth be told, he wasn't watching where he was going either. "No, Dr Sloan it was my fault I' m sorry I should have been paying more attention to my surroundings instead of thinking about my case."  
  
Mark couldn't help looking at the sheets as he picked them up. He had thought that it was some of the case files that he, Amanda and Jesse had been helping the detective with but quickly recognised that they were pages of a pathologists report. Intrigued he began to read some of what he was picking up. The name Peter Carpenter was new. That could only mean. He drew in a sharp breath and then exhaled heavily as he realised the significance of the fact that Detective Turner was carrying this report. "Nathan?" was all he said.  
  
Nathan looked up from the papers he was trying to sort back into some semblance of order. He had heard Mark's sharp intake of breath and recognised instantly the significance of his unspoken question. "You'd better come with me back into Amanda's office and I'll go through the latest developments in the case with you." He said concern in his voice. He took the remaining papers from Mark's hand and, making no further attempt to arrange them, pushed them into the file. He moved to the door which he held open for Mark, waiting to follow him in.  
  
Amanda looked up and saw Mark enter. She smiled. "Mark," she said but her smile faded as she saw the slightly shocked look on Mark's face. Then she noticed Detective Turner following him in. Nathan helped Mark over to a chair as he explained to Amanda. "We had a bit of a collision in the corridor. I dropped the file and Mark helped me pick it up."  
  
"Oh," said Amanda and then her eyes widened a little as she realised herself what Mark must have seen. "Oh," she repeated with more feeling. "Oh Mark I'm sorry, we were waiting until we knew how Steve was going to be before we bothered you about the case." She explained.  
  
"He's killed someone." Mark said it was a statement not a question. Mark closed his eyes and pinched the bridge of his nose. He looked up at Amanda, "when?" He asked  
  
"Night before last. He died between 1 and 1.30 pm."  
  
"How?"  
  
"Strangulation."  
  
"And you're sure it was him?"  
  
"Yes, I've made a positive DNA match with the other cases."  
  
Mark sat back in the chair and stared into space, thinking hard. Finally he looked over to Detective Turner. "Forgive me Nathan I was wrong."  
  
"Wrong? About what?" Asked the young detective a little confused.  
  
"That first day when you asked for help. I should have tried to help you then. I was being selfish."  
  
"No, I understand, besides you have been a great deal of help since. Without Amanda it is unlikely that this death would have even been linked with the other attacks, at least not for some time. Now at least we have a fighting chance of catching this guy before he strikes again." Everyone was silent for a couple of minutes. "Dr Sloan does this mean you might reconsider letting me talk to Steve," he paused. "When he's up to it of course."  
  
Mark looked up at the eager young detective, he reminded him a lot of Steve when he was younger. It took him a moment or two to digest the question. "I'm sorry Nathan, I don't think Steve will be able to answer your questions for some time."  
  
"But I thought the prognosis was excellent," said Amanda. "Jesse, practically danced a jig around the room when he came down before to tell me Steve was awake and likely to make a full recovery. Are you trying to tell us that there are complications?" Amanda's concern was growing.  
  
"No, I think he's going to be fine," Mark replied. "but at the moment he's suffering from Amnesia. He cannot remember anything from a week before the attack to the moment he woke up in ICU." He turned towards Detective Turner. "I'm afraid that even if he was up to answering questions, in his present condition he would be no use to you at all."  
  
Nathan did his best to cover his disappointment. He felt like he knew Steve well, just from working with the people who all so clearly cared deeply about him. He also knew from all that he had heard that Steve could be a great asset to any investigation. The fact that he might never be able to help bring his attacker to justice seemed unfair. "I'm sorry to hear that Dr Sloan, but I'm glad that he's going to be alright."  
  
"Speaking of Steve, I must get back to him." Mark said checking his watch. "The tests should be finished for the day."  
  
"Would you mind if I came over tomorrow to discuss the case with the three of you?"  
  
Nathan asked. "I'd appreciate your input."  
  
"Yes of course. Call Amanda and arrange a time." Mark replied heading for the door. "We'll talk tomorrow," and with that he left the room.  
  
Steve had dozed off after the last and longest batch of testing. When he woke up he realised that for the first time that day he was alone. He took the opportunity to consider what had happened to him. Whatever it was it must have been pretty serious. He had been hit on the head before, but even when he'd had a concussion he'd never been subjected to testing like he had been today. They seemed to be checking everything from his ability to remember the alphabet to his ability to stand on one leg. It was like some bizarre cross between a test in elementary school and his army physical.  
  
The other sign that this was no ordinary bump on the head was the presence of his father. His dad had clearly been reluctant to leave his side and had been in the room with him overnight. The presence of the cot was evidence of that and if it was serious enough to keep his father that close then it must have been bad.  
  
The final piece of evidence, if he needed any, that his condition had been life threatening was his father's appearance and for that matter, Jesse's when he had popped in earlier. Their faces were creased with more than their usual share of worry lines and neither of them looked as if they had had enough sleep, 'Must have been touch and go there for a while.' Steve thought to himself grateful that he seemed to be out of danger.  
  
No one had as yet told him anything about what had happened to him. They were probably waiting until he was stronger, he surmised. 'Damn, if only I could remember.' As he struggled once again to try to recall anything that might explain his current situation, the door opened and Mark entered.  
  
"Dad," Steve said smiling at the familiar and comforting presence of his father.  
  
Mark had taken time on the journey from the path lab to carefully arrange his thoughts. It was important for Steve's sake that he remain focused and positive. It was going to be a difficult enough period of readjustment, without Steve becoming concerned about him. He smiled back at his son. "Steve, you're awake, how did the rest of the tests go?"  
  
"Ok, they haven't asked me to do anything I can't manage yet," he smiled thinking of how easy some of the questions had been. Then his expression darkened, "except remember what happened of course." The frustration was already beginning to show in his voice.  
  
"Give it time," Mark said, unwilling to get into this particular conversation yet. "You just need rest at the moment."  
  
"But.." Steve began but Mark interrupted.  
  
"You've had a very nasty head injury. How it happened is not important right now. The only thing that is important is that you allow yourself time to recover."  
  
Steve looked at the mixture of pain and concern in his father's eyes. He was not satisfied with the reply. There was so much he needed to know but he decided to let it rest for the time being. He was still very tired.  
  
Mark changed the subject. "Jesse and Amanda said they'd come down to see you as soon as their shift finished. I know Jesse's been here already but he was disappointed that he didn't get a chance to speak to you."  
  
Steve smiled again. "It'll be good to see them. What time is it?"  
  
"Nearly five. Do you want to get some rest before they get here?" Mark had noticed that Steve's eyes were closing and he was forcing himself to stay awake.  
  
"Yes I think that would probably be good. I'd like to be a little alert when they visit." Steve said not fighting the tiredness any longer. He rested his head back and, as he had done so many times that day drifted off back to sleep.  
  
Mark gently pushed the lock of hair from his sons forhead where it had fallen over his eyes and sat down in the chair by his son's bed deep in thought.  
  
When Jesse and Amanda arrived Steve was still asleep. Mark was standing looking out of the window. As they came in he placed a finger over his lips and gestured across to the bed, then motioned them over to where he was standing. Understanding implicitly they joined him on the far side of the room. Talking quietly Mark took the opportunity to fill them in on Steve's condition. He had not really had chance to talk to them about the amnesia, nor the dilemma that it left them all in about how, and how much, to tell Steve about the last few days.  
  
They were still discussing it when Steve woke up and they were so engrossed in the conversation that they failed to notice he was awake until he spoke. "Hey what is this a conspiracy? Are you all stood there whispering about something you don't want me to know?"  
  
All three doctors turned "Steve," said Amanda a huge smile spreading across her face. "No of course not we just didn't want to wake you."  
  
His dad and Jesse also turned to face him warm smiles of affection spreading across their faces as they realised he was awake, but Steve had caught something in their look just before they smiled . A slightly guilty expression perhaps? There was something that they did not want him to know. What were they trying to protect him from? He thought about it momentarily and then dismissed the question. He would consider it later. For now he was just happy to see them. They all moved across to the bed and sat down.  
  
Jesse was, predictably, the first of them to get a question out. "How are you feeling?"  
  
"Apart from the tiredness, I guess just fine. From the way you're all behaving I guess I must have given you all quite a scare."  
  
"We were never really worried," Amanda lied lightly. She was still worried.  
  
"Yeah, it would take more than a bump on the head to get rid of you." Jesse kept his tone equally light. "Especially someone with a head as hard as yours." He added teasingly.  
  
Steve grinned.  
  
"And it looks like you're going to make a full recovery," said Mark and then attempted to change the subject away from Steve's condition. "So we were just contemplating sending Jesse out for take out from Bob's to celebrate your return to health. Do you think you could manage some?"  
  
Steve noticed the subtle change of subject but once again let it pass. His instincts about people especially when they were avoiding talking about something and especially when they were people he knew, were excellent. From this short exchaange and their hastily controlled expressions, he now knew for certain that his father and his two friends did not want to talk to him about how he had ended up here. "Yeah, I think I could manage a little," he said.  
  
"Then that's settled we'll all have dinner here," said Mark.  
  
For the rest of the evening the conversation was kept light, but for the fact that it was taking place in a hospital room, it might have been four old friends having a pleasant dinner party. Steve got tired early and Jesse and Amanda dismissed themselves at about 9pm. Mark stayed on watching as his son fell asleep. He had had the nurses remove the extra cot from the room whilst Steve was sleeping earlier. He knew that if he insisted on staying overnight now that Steve was supposedly out of danger that it would alert his son to the fact that there was still something wrong. So he pretended that he was just going to stick around until Steve was sleeping. In reality he had no intention of leaving the hospital and had arranged to stay in one of the on call rooms.  
  
Stacey sat in the bar staring at the newspaper. The deep brown eyes of Peter Carpenter seemed to be staring back at her, boring into her very soul. She had tried to tell herself that it was only a photograph, that she was imagining things, but it wasn't working. She had read the article a hundred times, willing the words on the page to change; for it not to be true, for the man just to be hurt not dead, but each time she read it it was the same. He had been killed and she was partly responsible.  
  
The first time she had read that he had been strangled she had felt again the vice like grip around her own throat. She recalled the feeling as she gasped for breath and the cold look in her tormentor's eyes as he squeezed tighter. He had complete control over her and they both knew it. She had almost thrown up there and then but had managed to make it to the ladies before the nausea had overcome her.  
  
Now she sat shaking, unable to do anything but stare at the picture and curse herself for ever getting involved. When the stranger called again she had no idea what she would do. She was too afraid to go on helping him and too afraid not to. She contemplated running away but she had no money and nowhere to go, besides, she was fairly sure that true to his word he would know where to find her wherever she went.  
  
Eventually the craving to satisfy her addiction overcame all of her other feelings. She still had some stuff left and she needed to use it. She picked up the paper and took it with her. She was unsure why, it would have been better to leave it where it lay and forget all about it, but it was almost as if she had some deep felt need to punish herself. So she took the paper and left to fulfill her craving. At least she would forget for a while.  
  
  
  
Part 15 - What Can You Say?  
  
  
  
Dr Stephanie Carter was in her office at 7.30 am. She made herself a coffee and checked her e-mails before she opened her case file on Steve Sloan and began sifting through it again. She was familiar with the contents having read through it thoroughly the night before. She had also had a fairly lengthy discussion with Dr Taylor when they had set up this meeting.  
  
This was always going to be a tough case to deal with, even before the amnesia, but now it was darn right impossible. The only thing she had on her side was the involvement of Mark, Steve's father, and the obvious strong bond that they shared, after all it had saved his life once already.  
  
She sighed deeply as her secretary buzzed to say that Doctors Taylor and Sloan had arrived and were waiting to see her. She asked for them both to be sent straight in.  
  
Dr Taylor entered first followed by Dr Sloan and having exchanged greetings they all sat. Dr Carter began. "I think we're all fairly clear why we are here. We need to decide basically what, if anything we are going to tell Steve about what happened and how we handle his treatment from here." She paused looking at her two colleagues, confiming from their attentive expressions that they agreed with what she was saying. She continued, "my personal view is that we hold off telling him anything for as long as possible. It will be far better for him if we can get him to remember, under controlled circumstances. Then we can help him to deal with it."  
  
"Under controlled circumstances?" Questioned Mark.  
  
"Yes, here in the psych ward. Technically Steve signed himself in for a four week evaluation so he's still an in-patient on this ward."  
  
Mark sighed slightly before speaking. "I don't disagree with you Dr Carter, in fact as I'm sure Dr Taylor will tell you, I suggested a similar course of action myself. I'm just not sure how we are going to get Steve to willingly come down here without telling him why he needs to be here."  
  
"Well that's where you come in Dr Sloan."  
  
"Please call me Mark."  
  
"Okay Mark. We need to persuade Steve to come back down here and allow us to treat him. Obviously he will have to know about the amnesia but not anything else. Do you think you can persuade him?"  
  
"I could try," he considered his reply for a little while longer before continuing, "but I don't think I've got much chance of success unless I can give him a tangible reason why he needs to be here."  
  
Dr Carter had already considered the possibility that Steve would need to know a little more and had discussed it with Dr Taylor. "Very well if necessary tell him that something traumatic happened to him but don't go into any detail. If you absolutely have to tell him about the suicide attempt, but only as a last resort if you can't get him to agree to come by any other method. If you can explain why it is important that we get his memory to return as naturally as possible I believe that will help. Do you think you can do it?"  
  
Mark considered what he was being asked to do. This was going to be one of the most difficult conversations he had ever had with his son, but what choice did he have. He looked Dr Carter in the eye. "Yes, or at least I'll try."  
  
Dr Taylor finally spoke. "Let me know when you're going to tell him. We have no idea how he may react so I'll have a nurse standing by with a sedative."  
  
Mark knew as a doctor that this was a necessary and sensible precaution but as a parent the idea that what he needed to tell his son was so bad that he may need sedation to help him deal with it was horrifying. All he could bring himself to say was "Yes, I'll let you know."  
  
There was silence for a few minutes. Eventually Mark got up to leave. "If that's all I need to go and think about what I'm going to say."  
  
"By all means Mark. Page me as soon as you know anything" Dr Carter said rising courteously. She and Dr Taylor watched Mark leave. The stiffness of his movements betrayed the heavy physical and emotional toll all of this was having on him. 'No this is not going to be easy' Dr Carter reiterated her earlier thought.  
  
Mark made his way back to his office to think. He had popped in briefly to check on Steve before his meeting but could not face going back now, not yet. Steve was scheduled for a few more tests that would take until mid morning and Mark decided that he would go back when they had finished.  
  
Amanda was looking down her microscope when Jesse entered. "Hi," he said dropping onto a chair nearby. "Find anything new."  
  
Amanda looked up "Jesse you look terrible!" She said in a way that only a close friend could get away with.  
  
Jesse tried in vain to straighten his clothing and neaten up his hair but he knew that wasn't what she was referring to. "Yeah I really haven't been getting a lot of sleep since this whole thing with Steve started. I had to check in at BBQ Bob's after I left here last night and I started on early shifts in the ER today." The fact that he and Steve owned a restaurant together always made it hard on the other if either of them was incapacitated. Jesse would never admit to minding when he had to take up the slack, but it wasn't easy juggling that and a full time career.  
  
"No wonder you look exhausted here I'll get you some coffee."  
  
"Thanks, besides you don't look much better."  
  
"I know I've been getting up earlier so that I can spend a bit more time with the boys and I guess I've not been sleeping too well either." She handed Jesse a steaming mug of coffee. "And to answer your earlier question yes, I have found something new."  
  
"What?" said Jesse intrigued as Amanda moved back to the microscope.  
  
"I've been rechecking the fibres from all of the cases. In three of them traces of human hair from a female were found. According to the tests I've done it is all from the same woman, dark brown, straight and fine. Confirming what we thought; a female accomplice."  
  
"That's good."  
  
"It gets better. In the latest case I found traces of red hair."  
  
"But I thought you just said it gets better. If the hair colour is different."  
  
Amanda interrupted before Jesse could finish his thought. "That's just it. The fibres on this hair are synthetic which means whoever it was wore a wig this time."  
  
Jesse looked confused he could see why this didn't contradict their theory about a single female accomplice but couldn't understand why this was in any way more helpful to them. He opened his mouth to ask but Amanda continued anticipating his question. "Don't you see in all of the other cases this woman hasn't bothered to disguise her own hair. So why start now unless she is getting rattled. She could be our weak link to helping find this guy."  
  
Jesse's expression changed from one of confusion to understanding. He continued her train of thought. "If she's starting to get scared then she may help give him away."  
  
"Precisely," said Amanda.  
  
"Have you told Nathan yet?"  
  
"No, I've only just finished confirming it. Besides we're supposed to be meeting him later today. He wants to discuss the case with us. I've arranged for it to be late this afternoon so that Mark has a chance to talk to Steve" The last part of the sentence almost caught in her throat. Damn, if she could only start talking about Steve without getting so emotional, but that was going to take time.  
  
The comment also brought a sad far away look into Jesse's eyes but he quickly recovered himself. He smiled at her. "We'll have this solved in no time." At that point Jesse's pager went off. "Looks like I'm needed. I'll catch you later."  
  
Mark took a deep breath and entered Steve's room. Steve was awake, he had the top of the bed fully elevated so that he was in a sitting position. He was thinking and it took him a moment to realise that someone had come in. "Dad," he said smiling, "I wondered when you would be coming down."  
  
Mark did his best to smile back but his task weighed heavily and the best he could manage barely raised the corners of his lips.  
  
Steve noticed the pain and concern on his father's face it had been there yesterday too but somehow it seemed worse now "Dad is there something wrong?"  
  
"Steve," Mark began, unable to keep himself from sighing. "We need to talk." Mark sat down heavily in the chair next to the bed.  
  
Steve recognised the tone in his father's voice. This was serious, very serious. He had been half expecting something like this after the way everyone had evaded his questions the day before. "Is it about what happened to me?" He asked, wanting to know but afraid of the answers.  
  
"Yes, although everyone is very pleased with your recovery so far, as you already know you are suffering from some form of amnesia."  
  
"Because I can't remember what happened to me?" Steve said the frustration was there again in his voice.  
  
"Yes, but it is slightly more serious than even you realise. You see the Martin Case finished over two weeks ago. You were unconscious for two and a half days during that period." Mark paused to allow time for Steve to digest this information.  
  
"So I've lost over a week and a half of memory. How? Why?" Steve's agitation was beginning to grow, a combination of fear of what he didn't know and frustration at himself for not being able to remember.  
  
"The head injury is the most probable cause. Now we need to try to help you recall what happened."  
  
Steve looked at his father studying his face. "Why can't you just tell me?" He asked simply. His stomach had started to tie itself in knots.  
  
"I'm sorry son, it's not that easy. It will be far better for you if you can regain the memories for yourself."  
  
'Is that likely to happen?"  
  
"It is difficult to tell, but in a lot of cases, yes, the memories return naturally either in whole or in pieces, given time."  
  
"But not in all cases?"  
  
"No, that's why we need to try to help you to remember. Steve we need you to stay here in the hospital until you do remember."  
  
Steve looked at his father searchingly, there was still something he hadn't been told. "How long do I need to be here for?"  
  
"Well your physical injuries should have healed completely in a couple of days but Dr Taylor and I would like you to stay for a while longer."  
  
"How long?" Steve repeated his question  
  
"Probably a few weeks."  
  
Steve digested this information. "What aren't you telling me? Why can't I go home and try and remember there? What is it that's so bad about what I'm going to remember?" The emotion in Steve's voice was rising as his agitation continued to increase.  
  
Mark sighed he was going to have to tell Steve more. As he had predicted, Steve was not going to accept the need to stay in the hospital without more information.  
  
"We need you to stay here because in the time that you cannot recall" He stopped to think. He was trying desperately to word his reply carefully. He did not want Steve to become any more upset but he had to continue. "Something happened to you. Something very traumatic. You need to recall the events yourself if you are ever going to deal with them."  
  
Since the day before, Steve had had chance to consider what it was that might have happened that those closest to him would try to keep from him. All of the scenarios he had considered were bad. To have it confirmed here by his father; something so traumatic that they could not tell him about it, caused him to immediately assume that it was the worst of all these nightmare situations and he started to edge towards panic. "What? Tell me please. Did I hurt someone? Did I do something wrong. Is that why you can't tell me? Did I let someone die? Oh my God, did I kill someone?" The words poured out in an endless stream giving Mark no opportunity to reply. As Steve voiced his worst fears, the physical symptoms of panic started to grow. His breathing became quick and shallow, his heart was racing and he was sweating, soon he would not be able to respond rationally.  
  
Mark knew that he had to calm his son down or call in the nurse with the sedative. He stood and grabbed Steve by the shoulders, calling his name sharply and clearly. "Steve, Steve, NO! listen to me. You didn't hurt anyone. You didn't do anything wrong. None of this is your fault. Steve can you hear me? You must calm down. None of this is your fault." Mark forced himself to speak slowly and calmly.  
  
Mark held Steve's gaze. He had managed to stop the panic from escalating. Steve slowly brought his breathing under control. Finally he managed to say. "If it's not my fault why can't you tell me?"  
  
"Because just telling you may affect your recovery." Mark said relaxing a little and releasing his grip on Steve's shoulders  
  
"Did whatever it was have that profound an effect on me?"  
  
"Yes"  
  
"I was recieving psychiatric treatment?"  
  
"Yes"  
  
"I still don't see why I can't go home until I remember. I can always come back in for treatment."  
  
There it was. Steve was not going to be convinced without being told exactly how bad things had got. "I'm sorry Steve we can't risk that."  
  
Steve was much calmer now, his father had managed to reassure him a little although he was still very afraid of and frustrated by what he did not know. "Why?"  
  
Once again Mark sighed heavily. "We can't risk you going home because you were going to kill yourself." The tears welled up in his eyes as he said this. "You were already being treated here voluntarily before you went into the coma. So you see we can't risk you remembering what happened on your own."  
  
Steve's mind was reeling. He was having difficulty following what his dad had said. He had never thought of himself as capable of self harm. What could have happened to drive him to that?. He sat staring at the far wall but not really seeing it.  
  
Mark watched his son. Not sure of how much of what he had said that he had taken in. He was contemplating repeating some of the information. When Steve finally spoke. "You want me to sign in as an in patient on the psych ward?"  
  
"Yes"  
  
Steve turned to look at his father. Mark noted with sadness that once again the sparkle had gone from his son's eyes to be replaced by a hollow look, as though a part of him were missing. "Then if you really think it's necessary I'll go." He held his father's gaze. "I trust you." He said simply and leaned his head back on the pillow and stared at the ceiling in the far corner of the room.  
  
Mark knew that there was nothing more he could say for the moment. "I'll go and make the arrangements," he said and left the room. As soon as he was on the far side of the door he felt momentarily weak and leaned back against it closing his eyes tightly he muttered. "Oh God, please don't make me ever have to go through anything like that again." 


	5. 

Part 16 - Making Progress?  
  
Steve had come back down to the psych ward at around 2pm. Since he could remember nothing about his previous visit he was shown round again before being shown back to his room. All of his things were still where he had unpacked them. As Dr. Carter had pointed out, he had not stopped being a patient all of the time he was in ICU and, as his room had not been needed in the interim, his things had been left where he placed them.  
  
Steve was left alone in the room for a few minutes to gather his thoughts before going to his evaluation meeting with Doctor Carter. There were few patients who had to repeat initial evaluation meetings. Steve looked around and walked over to the drawers and checked them. It was the strangest of feelings; somehow everything was familiar and not familiar at the same time. His father had told him that he was already a patient but it hadn't quite sunk in until now. He had been here before but he couldn't remember. The things that were here were what he would have chosen to bring and they were placed where he would put them. There was no doubt in his mind that he must have arranged them. His frustration began to grow again. 'Why was he here? Why couldn't he remember? Damn!' He punched his fist into the wall hard. It hurt, but somehow he didn't care, physical pain seemed so much easier to deal with. He forced himself to calm down and rubbed his bruised knuckle. He was standing staring at the wall, still massaging his hand when the nurse came to take him to see Dr. Carter.  
  
Mark, having arranged for Steve's transfer, had returned to his office and tried to catch up on some of the work that he had missed in the last few days. There were still those student evaluation meetings that he had promised to do and he was running out of time. He had picked up the files and started reading again, doing his best to concentrate and take his mind off the events of the morning but he was finding it difficult. The change in Steve between when he went in to talk to him and when he left was so dramatic. Mark could still see the look in his eyes. He felt responsible even though he knew that he had no choice.  
  
He was shaken out of his brooding by a knock on the door. Jesse entered. "Mark, can I come in?" he said a little hesitant to enter in case Mark wanted to be alone.  
  
"Jess, of course, come in. I was just trying to catch up on a little paperwork" He said raising the file that was in his hands.  
  
"With an upside down file?"  
  
Mark looked down, Jesse was right "Oh, I, er."  
  
"Thinking about Steve huh?"  
  
Mark exhaled slowly and nodded. "It was difficult persuading him to go back into the psych ward. He didn't take it well." Mark thought for a moment. " Jess do you think we're doing the right thing, helping him to remember like this?"  
  
"Hey don't start doubting yourself Mark. We've had this discussion remember. You know this is the only sure way to help Steve make a full recovery."  
  
"Yes, it's just so hard. I've been trying to take my mind off everything by catching up on some work."  
  
Jesse looked at the files. "Student reviews eh. No wonder you couldn't concentrate- boring is not the word."  
  
"Oh I don't mind."  
  
"Well I've got something more interesting for you to look at. Amanda has come up with some new forensic evidence. I bought you the file and we have a meeting with Nathan at 4pm "  
  
"Thanks," he said taking the file.  
  
"Will you be going up to see Steve again?"  
  
"Not until this evening. Dr. Carter wants to give him a chance to settle in again before he has any visitors."  
  
"Okay," Jesse jumped up, "I'll see you at four then." When he got to the door he paused and turned. "Mark are you going to be alright."  
  
Mark looked up at his friend and managed a half smile. "Fine, Jess just fine. Now get out of here We both have work to do."  
  
Jesse smiled back and left.  
  
The meeting between Steve and Doctor Carter had not gone as well as their first. Steve was showing no emotions other than anger and frustration. When he didn't sit in sullen silence, his answers were short. It was going to be hard for her to get him to trust her, especially when what she could tell him was so limited..  
  
Steve did not like the way he was behaving but he couldn't help himself. The anger and lack of cooperation were covering deeper feelings, the principle one of which was fear. He was so used to being strong, protecting others, he couldn't even admit to himself, much less anyone else that he was afraid. So his emotion was channeled into frustration and anger and there was little he could do about it.  
  
After the meeting Steve returned to his room. He was tired, it had been a tough day so far and he was still not feeling one hundred percent. He lay on his bed and closed his eyes drifting off to sleep almost immediately.  
  
The envelope was thrown onto the table in front of Stacey. The stranger had let himself in as he always did. Funny she had known the man for two months now and still thought of him as a stranger, but then again he was. She did not know his name, and she knew virtually nothing about him apart from the fact that he could supply her habit and that he seemed to want a constant supply of drugged, compliant men.  
  
When she had first started helping him, Stacey hadn't bothered to think about what she was doing to the men she set up and, when she started to realise what was probably happening, she hadn't wanted to think about it. The last two attacks and their accompanying newspaper reports had brought home the reality of what she was helping to do. Now, she could do nothing but think about it. It haunted her every waking moment. No matter how hard she tried she could no longer justify to herself her involvement with the stranger.  
  
Ryan watched as Stacey stared at the envelope. Not touching it, not opening it as she usually did, but just staring at it. "Open it," he commanded and after a brief hesitation she did so, taking out the contents and spreading them across the small table in front of her. The Newspaper cutting showed a man in his late 30s with dark hair. He was a lawyer according to the article, who had just successfully defended a man accused of murder.  
  
"His name's Jason Stevens," Ryan said unnecessarily, the name was captioned under the photograph. "You'll find him in a club called the Cockateel over on 17 th from about 7pm on. Take him to the Wing Sun Chinese restaurant. I've put in a map of the side entrance and back alleys indicating where I'll leave the car. The drugs for the drink are in the pouch as usual. I'll expect you between nine and nine thirty."  
  
Stacey continued to stare at the assortment of items in front of her, as she had done for the whole time the stranger had been delivering his now familiar set of instructions. There was the article, the map, addresses and the small packet of white powder. It was the same assortment that he always bought, but this time something was different; she was different. She didn't want to, couldn't, do this any more. Every inch of her wanted to scream 'No, I won't do it. I don't want to help you. I won't help you,' but she was paralysed by fear. She looked up at the man she now hated and feared and stared into the ice cold eyes of a killer. Instead of protesting or pleading with him, she merely said quietly "we'll be there."  
  
Ryan watched her for another few moments. He had been carefully analysing her reactions and realised that he could no longer trust her to comply with his instructions. To have her afraid of him was good, it had helped to keep her in line. But she was beyond just being afraid, she was terrified, and as such was rapidly becoming a liability. Tonight would be the last time he would use her help.  
  
At 4pm Mark entered Amanda's office. Nathan, Jesse and Amanda were already there. They were clearly waiting for him so that they could make a start. They exchanged greetings and Jesse got Mark some coffee. Once he was settled, Amanda began. "So Mark, have you had a chance to review the file that Jess bought up."  
  
"Yes, it makes very interesting reading. There's no doubt that finding the female accomplice could be the best way to catch this guy." He turned to look at Nathan. "Do you have a good description of her yet."  
  
"Well a better one than we had before. As soon as we realised that the woman each of these guys had dinner with might be involved I went back and interviewed the other victims again. One of them refused flatly to cooperate, claiming the whole thing had been a huge misunderstanding and that nothing happened."  
  
"Poor guy sounds like he's in denial," Jesse said.  
  
"Yes, but I couldn't get him to change his mind." Nathan said, the regret clear in his voice. "The other two victims were a little more helpful. I sent a police sketch artist over and they did their best, but they had only ever met the woman once and the trauma of what followed has made their recollection less than perfect. Still I've distributed the sketches and put out a general APB on her."  
  
"What about witnesses in the restaurants?" Asked Amanda.  
  
"Again sketchy descriptions at best; never the same restaurant twice. They are always in there with the dinner crowd when the staff are busy. Who notices a young couple on a dinner date? It's all so ordinary. Now that the department is taking this seriously, I've put some people on chasing up other possible witnesses. We've even got the waiter from the restaurant where Peter Carpenter ate down at the station looking through mug books but so far nothing."  
  
"What about the victims? Do they have anything in common? Do we have any idea how he's choosing them?" Mark asked. "If we could figure that out we may be closer to finding him."  
  
"Yes I have background files on all of the victims, even the uncooperative one, here." He indicated a pile of folders in front of him. "I was hoping that you would go through them for me. See if you can come up with anything that I may have missed. So far I've been unable to find anything which links more than two of them together."  
  
"Well we've tried this sort of thing before. Of course we'll give it a go." Mark replied taking the offered files. "Besides if it involves meticulously scanning information it's the sort of thing Jesse loves."  
  
"As long as it's only looking for trivia and it's not real work," said Amanda mischievously.  
  
"Hey that's not fair," said Jesse grinning at the friendly jibe, "but yeah I'd be happy to help go through them. Are you going back to the beach house tonight Mark?" He asked changing tack slightly.  
  
Mark considered it. Steve was under constant watch now by the nursing staff on the psych ward and he knew that it would be better for Steve if he gave him a little space, besides sleeping on the cots in the hospital was very uncomfortable, especially when compared to his own bed. "Yes, I think I will be. I can't see that I can be much help by staying here."  
  
"Good," said Jesse. "That means that me and Amanda can invite ourselves to dinner and we can make a start."  
  
"Okay," Mark smiled, "But one of you is doing the cooking."  
  
Nathan had kept one of the files in front of him. Waiting for the current light banter to finish, he hesitantly picked up the last file. "There's one more file here, the one we've made up on Steve." The atmosphere in the room changed, the friendly chatter forgotten as the mood became more somber. "I wasn't sure whether to include it or not. You all already know most of what's inside it, but it includes what we've found out about his movements on the day of the attack and that might be important. I know you're all very close," he hesitated again. "I don't want to make any of this difficult for you."  
  
Jesse sighed. "Well we're certainly all emotionally involved."  
  
"I'm grateful for your thoughtfulness," Mark said, "but the lead we're looking for is just as likely to involve Steve as any of the others. Difficult though it may be, I don't see how we can do this without including Steve. In this situation the more information we have the better." He took the file from Nathan and placed it with the others.  
  
"Thank you, all of you, I really appreciate this."  
  
"You can thank us when we've nailed this killer." Mark said a new determination in his voice. "In the meantime I think we all have a lot of work to do"  
  
Part 17- Frustration  
  
Steve was woken by the pain from his knuckle. He must have hit the wall harder than he thought. He looked at his watch. It was after 6pm and he realised he was hungry. Patients on this ward were able to eat in their rooms or in a communal eating area. The ward was designed, since few of the patients needed to remain in bed, to allow maximum contact with others. Social interaction was a crucial part of most patients' treatment.  
  
With some reluctance Steve decided he should really go and get himself something to eat. He didn't feel much like company but then he didn't want to be alone with his thoughts either. He went to the bathroom to freshen up. His things were all in a pile on the shelf next to the sink, as though someone had picked them up and dumped them there; the only things in the room that did not look like he had arranged them. He sorted them out and rinsed his face. His knuckle was hurting and made using his left hand difficult. He looked down at the bruising that was beginning to show and ran it under the cold tap to try to bring the swelling down. Then he left for the communal eating area.  
  
By the time he arrived most of the other patients were already eating. He made his selection and turned to look for an empty table but they were all taken. Eventually he spotted a corner table with only one other person sitting at it; a young woman. He walked over. Whatever mood he was in, his upbringing would not allow him to take a seat without asking permission. So he politely asked. "Do you mind if I sit with you?"  
  
The young woman looked up at him and Steve looked at her properly for the first time. She had short brown hair, porcelain skin and the deepest blue eyes he had ever seen. She smiled at him and gestured for him to sit down without saying a word. Steve sat. For a moment he had forgotten all else apart from the young woman in front of him. He couldn't tell what it was, there was something about her, a quality that he found fascinating. He shook himself and tried to keep from staring. "Thanks," He smiled at her and busied himself transferring his things awkwardly; his left hand was too stiff to allow him to grip properly, from his tray to the table.  
  
He started eating and despite his best efforts to avoid it found himself staring at his companion. She was so small, delicate and fragile. Steve found it difficult to believe that she was real. She looked up at him and realising he was staring at her, she blushed.  
  
Steve shook himself for a second time and apologised. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to stare. Thank you for letting me sit with you. My name's Steve, Steve Sloan." And he held out his hand. She shook it and smiled at him again. " I only came in this afternoon." He continued when she still failed to speak.  
  
She continued to smile but still said nothing. Steve was a little disconcerted. "You don't say much do you?"  
  
She shook her head. Suddenly there was a sadness in her eyes that did not fit with the smile she still held on her lips. She looked down at her plate and carried on eating.  
  
Steve didn't know what to do. She obviously didn't want to talk, so with an inward sigh he too looked back down at his food and carried on eating. The girl finished her meal before him and got up to leave. Still she did not speak and Steve did not look up, unwilling to force his company where it was not wanted. He was surprised when he felt her tap on the back of his arm. He looked up and there was that smile again. A smile that made him momentarily forget all his troubles and want to return it with as much enthusiasm. He smiled back. She made the slightest of gestures with her hand to indicate that she was leaving and turned away. With a sudden realisation Steve knew that it wasn't that she didn't want to speak to him, it was that she couldn't speak to him.  
  
He watched her walk away, regretting that he had not been more astute. If he had realised that she wasn't avoiding talking to him he was sure he could have found a way to communicate. He finished his meal in silence. Now that the woman had gone he was left to remember his own situation. He felt his frustration growing and so tried hard to think of nothing but the food on his plate.  
  
When he had finished he sat for a long time just staring at the table. It wasn't that he was lost in thought, quite the opposite, he was trying hard not to think. It wasn't until someone started to wipe down the table he was sitting at that he took time to look around the room. He was the only one left at a table everyone else had gone, apart from the cleaner and a nurse who stood by the entrance watching him. She was clearly making sure he was alright. 'Not safe to be left on my own, obviously,' he thought bitterly. The now all too familiar feelings of frustration and anger began to take hold again and he struggled to keep some semblance of calm as he returned his tray and walked out of the room.  
  
As he left the nurse started to follow. Steve turned on her. He couldn't help himself. "I'm a big boy now I can take care of myself," he snapped at her. "If it's okay with you I'll go back to my room and," he added shouting now, not caring who turned to look, "I don't need an escort." The young nurse was shocked by the outburst and stood slightly stunned as Steve stalked off down the corridor back to his room. She watched him go and then moved off to the nurses station to record the incident. Working in the psych ward was never dull!  
  
Steve walked into his room and slammed the door. Still not sure himself where all this anger was coming from. Mark had been sitting in a chair by the bed waiting for him. The slamming door made him jump. He stood, startled by his son's entrance "Steve?" he said questioningly.  
  
Steve turned to see his father. He spoke the anger still clear in his voice. "Dad? What are you doing in here?"  
  
Mark hesitated unsure of how to deal with his son's hostility. He chose to answer the question as calmly as he could. "I just came down to see how you were doing son."  
  
"Yeah well I'm doing just fine." Steve almost spat the words out.  
  
"Steve," his dad said almost pleadingly. "You don't sound fine"  
  
"Don't I? Well what do you expect. Locked up in this place, not even sure why I'm here. They don't even trust me to eat dinner on my own and I don't know why. God, I don't even know why." Steve turned away from his father and leaned against the wall  
  
Mark had seen the pain in his son's eyes before he turned away. Not for the first time he felt impotent, unable to do anything other than comfort and reassure. "It'll be alright son," he said quietly.  
  
Steve's temper flared again. He turned and moved towards his dad, lost in a red haze, he forced his father backwards with his forward movement. His face so close to Mark's that Mark could feel the heat of his breath as his son, angrier than he had ever seen him, spat the words at him. "It'll all be alright will it? Pat Steve on the back and all will be right with the world? Tell him it'll be OK and give him a hug and maybe, just maybe, he won't go crazy on us? Look at me." He grabbed his father by the shoulders and shook him. "Look at me." Then he said the last five words separately emphasising each one. "I . am .. clearly .. not . alright."  
  
Steve held his father's gaze for a few moments and then as the red mist began to clear a little he noticed the fear in his father's eyes. Oh god what was he doing? Why was he behaving like this? He let go and stepped back, turning away again. Thoroughly ashamed of himself; of his loss of control. "Oh god what's happening to me?" He said quietly as the tears began to roll down his face.  
  
Mark stood in shocked silence and watched his son. He had no idea what to do now apart from wait. Slowly Steve regained control of his emotions. He felt totally inadequate as he said, "I'm sorry dad."  
  
Mark walked over and put his hand on his son's shoulder. He did not say anything, unwilling to risk triggering another outburst. The doctor in him knew that violent mood swings were to be expected in the circumstances, but the voracity of his son's verbal attack had shaken him. They stood like that for several minutes. Eventually Steve turned round, the hand on his shoulder had reassured him. There were still tears in his eyes as he asked, calmly this time. "What is happening to me?"  
  
Mark guided him to the bed and sat him down. "Steve, you've been through a lot. The head injury alone is hard enough to deal with. The amnesia is making it harder. As I said before you need to take time. We're all here to help you get through this."  
  
"But just now, I could have hurt you. I could never forgive myself if.."  
  
"Steve," Mark interrupted, "It's alright, I understand. Just allow the people around you to help. It will get easier, I promise."  
  
Steve looked up at his father, sensing that things were alright between them. "Thanks."  
  
Mark waited for a few moments before he tried changing the subject. "I brought you some magazines to read." He picked up the pile from where he had left them next to the chair and handed them across.  
  
Steve took them and involuntarily winced as he tried to grip with his injured left hand. He covered it but it was too late. Mark had noticed.  
  
"What's wrong with your hand?" He didn't wait for an answer and moved over to look at it.  
  
"It's nothing," Steve began but betrayed his lie by letting out an involuntary moan as his father took hold of his hand.  
  
"Steve," Mark said, used to his son's unwillingness to have injuries properly treated. "That is most definitely not nothing. It looks like you may have dislocated one of your knuckles. What did you hit?"  
  
"The. er .. wall," Steve said sheepishly. His father looked at him. "It seemed like a good idea at the time," was the only explanation he could give.  
  
Mark looked simultaneously concerned and exasperated. "I'll get the nurse. You need an ice pack on that and then we'll need to get it X-rayed."  
  
"Dad," Steve started to protest.  
  
"Steve, this is something I can help you with. So let me," and he left to get the nurse, leaving Steve to consider what he had said and, more importantly, the implication that treating his injury was the only way his father felt he was helping.  
  
The nurse returned quickly with the ice pack. The on call doctor insisted that Steve should be given a mild sedative to temper the worst of the mood swings before being taken up to X-ray. Mark stayed with him until the knuckle had been reset and a mixture of painkillers, exhaustion and sedation finally put Steve to sleep. Mark finally headed for home at about 9.30 pm. He prayed that things would get easier from now on but knew deep down that there was worse to come.  
  
Stacey was good at what she did. She had been a model at the top of her field before the addiction had taken hold and despite the ravages of the drug, she still had a striking beauty. She could also charm any man. Within five minutes of talking to her, she usually had them eating out of her hand, or wondering what good deed they had done in a former life to have a chance with her. Today, however, she was having trouble. Her heart wasn't really in it and she was obviously giving off mixed signals.  
  
She had spotted her target, Jason Stevens, The second she had entered the bar. He was with some work colleagues and it had taken her a while to get his attention. When she finally got him to notice her, he showed his interest immediately and had quickly bought her a drink. Soon, he had deserted his colleagues and moved with her to a quiet table, but once there, she could tell that he wasn't quite sure of her. It was her nervousness that was showing through. She knew it and knew she had to do something about it or risk losing him. She excused herself to powder her nose.  
  
In the safety of the ladies room she attempted to pull herself together and forget her fears. She had done this a dozen times before. All she had to do was act; put on a show, pretend nothing was wrong. She was good at that. After all she had managed to continue her professional modeling career for months after the addiction had taken hold, all the while pretending that nothing was wrong. Until finally her habit was so bad that she started missing jobs. She got a reputation for being unreliable and then the work had started to dry up. The phone had stopped ringing and the money had run out.  
  
She composed herself, redid her hair and make-up and headed back out. This time she did not give off any mixed signals. It was perfectly obvious to Jason where this date was headed, but first the young lady wanted Chinese food and if that was what she wanted, then that was what she was going to get. They headed out of the bar together and, quite by chance as far as Jason was concerned, spotted a Chinese restaurant called Wing Sun less than a block away.  
  
Ryan watched from the shadow of a doorway across the street. So far, so good. Stacey was following the plan, but could she be relied upon to complete it this time? Only time would tell.  
  
Mark pulled up at the beach house and smiled, Jesse and Amanda were already there. He hadn't been home in four days and he was glad that he did not have to enter a cold empty house. He just hoped they had saved him some dinner.  
  
Jesse and Amanda were in the dining room at the back of the house. The table was set on the far side, with three settings. The other side was strewn with paper from the various case folders and they had set up a notice board onto which various things had been pinned and written.  
  
"Hi Mark," they both said as he entered. "We waited dinner for you." Jesse continued, "and figured we'd make a start on this."  
  
Mark looked exhausted, both of his companions noticed but did not comment on it. They merely resolved to help him as much as they could. Leaving the paperwork where it was Jesse took Mark's things off him and carried his bag through to his room. Amanda got Mark a drink and set about serving dinner, both refused his offers of help and made him sit down and rest. When they were all finally seated eating dinner they asked about Steve. Wearily Mark filled them in on the events of the evening and they offered what encouragement they could.  
  
After dinner they set about sorting through the paperwork together. They looked at every detail. After all it was often the smallest of clues that helped them to trap a killer.  
  
Meanwhile across town Stacey and the latest potential victim were finishing dinner. Stacey looked at her watch 10.15. She was already very late and knew the stranger would be angry. It wasn't her fault though. It had taken longer than expected to get to this point. Stacey had ordered another round of drinks and deposited the small packet of white powder in Jason's glass. All that remained was for her to wait for him to drink some of it and then make her proposition and then.  
  
She realised that she could not go through with it. No matter what the consequences for her. She had to stop this now. Jason raised his glass to his lips. Stacey grabbed it "No wait"  
  
Jason stopped, startled by the sudden change in his companion. "What." he began.  
  
Stacey interrupted him. "Look, No, don't look over there. It's my boyfriend he just came in." She lied expertly, just the right amount of fear in her voice. "He's very jealous, very violent. You must get out of here quickly before he sees us."  
  
"But.." Jason tried to understand the sudden change of circumstance.  
  
"Look I'm sorry, I just fancied a fling. I didn't know he would come in here. Now go before he spots you and puts you in hospital."  
  
Jason finally managed to make sense of what he was hearing and started to head for the side entrance of the restaurant. "No," Stacey found it difficult not to scream the word, fearing for the man's safety if he left by the side alley. Then her sacrifice would be for nothing. "You must go through the front or he will see you. Get out of here and keep running just in case he comes after you."  
  
Jason could now see the genuine fear in the young woman's eyes. He did not need telling again. He threw some money on the table and exited the restaurant as quickly as he could.  
  
Stacey continued to sit at the table and stare at the drinks in front of her. She was not at all surprised when the stranger sat down opposite her. "Hello Stacey," he said coldly. "Looks like you want to play tonight." 


	6. 

Part 18 - Not Coping Well  
  
Steve slept fitfully. When he awoke, he was momentarily disoriented. Then his senses started to return, as the hospital room around him came fully into focus. The memory of the previous days events also came sharply into focus. It was like waking up into a nightmare instead of out of one. He no longer felt frustrated by his situation, instead he felt. He tried to pinpoint his emotions and realised that he couldn't. He didn't really feel anything at all. It was like someone had drained all of the emotion out of him. He sat up and swung his legs off the bed. His muscles were stiff, he hadn't been getting nearly enough exercise recently but he couldn't be bothered to stretch. He sat for a long time. He knew that he should get washed and dressed and go for breakfast but he didn't seem to have the will to want to move. So instead he sat thinking about it instead of doing it.  
  
When the nurse came in to give him his medication, she noticed how subdued and quiet Steve was. It was a sharp contrast to his agitation of the day before. When she returned twenty minutes later to check on him, she found him sitting in the same position on the bed. She decided that he needed some assistance and gently encouraged him to get dressed. It took several attempts and she had to physically guide him to the bathroom but eventually Steve got himself ready.  
  
Once he was up and moving, motivation became a little easier and he made it to the eating area to get breakfast. This time he was able to find a table by himself and he sat down with his food. He was absently pushing it around his plate when he felt a tap on his arm. He looked up; it was the young woman from the previous evening. She had a tray of food and was clearly waiting for permission to sit down.  
  
"Please take a seat," Steve said returning her smile. For some reason despite his emotional state, Steve forgot once again all of his problems as he watched her sit down. This time he was determined to communicate with her.  
  
"So do you come here often?" Steve asked. It was lame he knew, but it had the desired effect and made her smile at him. She nodded.  
  
"I suppose after that opening I should continue with. What's a nice girl like you doing in a place like this? But I think I'll give that line a miss for now." He paused. "I do reserve the right to use it later if I get desperate."  
  
The young woman laughed and pointed Steve back at his food, the implication clear in her actions. "Oh so you think I should stick to eating instead of chatting huh?"  
  
The woman nodded again, still smiling.  
  
"Fair enough," Steve said and actually began eating some of the food that he had previously only played with. He knew that she was teasing but decided to play along. He waited for a couple of minutes, aware that she was watching him. Eventually he looked up at her, she had an expectant look on her face as though she was waiting for him to say something else.  
  
"I thought you wanted me to keep quiet?" he said innocently.  
  
The look on her face conveyed her reply clearly enough 'I was only teasing and you know it!'  
  
"OK then, but I wish you could tell me your name." Steve said and instantly regretted it as the sad look from the previous evening returned to his companion's eyes. He quickly changed the subject. "Let's start with something easier, favourite colour?"  
  
She pointed to his sweater. "Blue?" He asked. She nodded. "Hey mine too."  
  
They carried on chatting like this for the next fifteen minutes. Steve worded his questions carefully so that she could answer yes or no to them, or could point at things. It was one of the nurses who finally ended their 'chat.' She came over, "I'm sorry to interrupt, Steve, Laura but Laura has a session with Dr. Carter."  
  
"Okay thanks," said Steve. Laura got up to leave and waved with the same slight gesture that she had done the previous evening. "See you around." Steve said returning the wave.  
  
He watched her walk away. For a few minutes Steve had felt like himself, something about the young woman, Laura, allowed him to respond as he would have done if nothing were wrong. Perhaps it was the fact that he had been concentrating so hard on communicating with her that he had not had time to think about himself. He didn't know, but now she had gone his dark mood returned. He felt empty, like nothing would ever make him 'normal' again. He convinced himself that talking to Laura had just been an act and, without her there, there was no reason to pretend. The negative thoughts fed the negative emotions in a viscous spiral He sighed and tried to motivate himself to move back to his room. He did not succeed, instead he sat staring at his plate, wrapping himself in a cocoon of negative emotions until one of the nurses found him and took him to his first therapy session of the day.  
  
Jesse Travis pulled his car into the lot and entered the opulent lobby of the 5th National Bank. He asked for directions to see Mr. Paul Dunn, recently appointed assistant Vice-president of the bank and was shown to a large suite of offices on the fourteenth floor. There he encountered the usual secretary come personal assistant, appointed, as far as Jesse could tell, by all those in executive positions to make it as difficult as possible for anyone to get to see their employer.  
  
"Dr. Jesse Travis to see Mr. Dunn"  
  
"Do you have an appointment?" the secretary asked officiously  
  
"Er yes. I rang first thing this morning. You said Mr. Dunn had a cancellation and could fit me in at 9.30." Jesse answered the question patiently despite the fact that he could see his name written clearly in the appointment book the woman had in front of her and he knew that he had spoken to her personally less than an hour ago.  
  
"Please take a seat." She said and spoke into an intercom. She waited for Jesse to sit down and get comfortable before calling him. "Dr. Travis, you can go in now." Jesse, who normally liked everyone, decided he did not like her.  
  
Jesse entered the spacious corner office and was greeted by a man in his late thirties. He had fair hair and was tanned and athletic. Jesse recognised him from the photographs in the police report, except he had wrinkles that did not belong on a face of his age and he looked a little pale and drawn. The man smiled and greeted him and asked him to take a seat.  
  
"Thank you for agreeing to see me at such short notice." Jesse began.  
  
"No problem, Dr. Travis, but my secretary was a little vague about why you wanted to see me."  
  
"It's about the events of October the 14th"  
  
The smile on Paul Dunn's face faded instantly and the colour drained from his cheeks. His tone became hostile. "I don't believe I know what you are talking about."  
  
"I need to ask you some questions about what happened to you that evening. I need to ask you about the attack."  
  
"Look, I've already told you I don't know what you are talking about."  
  
"You told the police.."  
  
Paul interrupted him. "I told the police that the whole thing was a misunderstanding. Nothing happened to me." His anger was rising again. "Just who are you Dr. Travis, If you really are a Dr. Who are you working for? The press? A rival bank trying to discredit me? I tell you nothing happened and you can't prove otherwise." His tone became increasingly hostile. "Print anything about this and I'll sue for libel. Now get out of my office before I call security." He picked up the phone.  
  
Jesse had listened unable to get a word in but now broke in quickly before Paul had chance to dial the number and get him thrown out. He had to convince him that he was genuine. "Please I really am a Dr. and I'm working with the police. Before you call security just hear me out. If at the end you don't want to help me then I'll just leave. I promise."  
  
Paul put the phone down. "I'm listening, you have two minutes."  
  
"The man who attacked you."  
  
Paul interrupted, "I told you nothing happened."  
  
"Please you said you'd listen." Paul nodded. Jesse continued, "the man who attacked you also attacked a very close friend of mine. He didn't get off as lucky as you, he was hit on the head with a blow that almost killed him."  
  
"I'm sorry to hear that."  
  
"And the day before yesterday another victim of this guy wasn't so lucky either. He was found dead; strangled."  
  
"I'm sorry about that too."  
  
"Look, please, we have to catch this man before he gets chance to do this to anyone else. You might be able to remember something that could help us track him down. Won't you at least try. You don't have to file a police report again or testify just tell me what you remember."  
  
Paul thought for a moment, all of the hostility had gone from his voice. "No, I can't. I wish you luck, but I'm sorry I can't help you."  
  
Jesse looked at his face searchingly. "Why because of your precious reputation." He said bitterly.  
  
"Partly, yes, I have only just been appointed, any hint of a scandal, even if I'm the victim, and the corporate knives will be out, but mostly," he let it hang and Jesse had to prompt him to continue.  
  
"Mostly?"  
  
"Mostly because at the moment the only way I can cope and get through each day is by pretending to myself that it didn't happen. I can't tell you or the police anything because I can't allow myself to remember or even think about what happened. If I open those particular floodgates I might never get them closed again." He paused and sighed, "I'm sorry I can't help you. It never happened."  
  
"You know that eventually this is going to catch up with you if you bottle it up like this."  
  
"Possibly but at the moment I'm not prepared to take any other course of action."  
  
"Well if you change your mind," Jesse handed him a card.  
  
"I won't," Paul said but he took the card anyway.  
  
Jesse got up to leave, when he had his hand on the door, Paul spoke "Dr. Travis," Jesse turned. " I really am sorry about your friend. I hope he makes a full recovery."  
  
"Yes so do I," Jesse said and left.  
  
  
  
Part 19 - A lead at last  
  
  
  
Mark had slept reasonably well considering the circumstances. He had woken once from a nightmare, but a hot milk at 3am had allowed him to calm down enough to get some more sleep before coming in to work. Jesse had insisted, once again, in staying over. Just having him in the house for reassurance had helped.  
  
Mark had decided to go into work early to catch up on the intern reports. He would have to complete them today or pass them on to someone else and, despite everything that was happening, Mark hated shirking responsibilities. He had promised to do them and so he would do his utmost to get them done. Besides, the work would prevent him from sitting brooding about Steve. All they could do for him at the moment was wait and see if any of the therapists could help trigger a return of his memory.  
  
By mid morning Mark was very pleased with himself. He had finished updating all of the reports and only had to arrange a brief interview with each of the interns, before they went on a tour of their new departments and were given their rotas for the following week. He decided he had earned a break and went off to find out how Steve was doing.  
  
Steve was sitting in the day room; one of the communal areas, flicking through the paper on the table in front of him. Like everything else he had done that morning, his heart wasn't really in it. He was only there at all because the nurse had brought him there after his group session and put the paper under his nose. So he had started to look through it.  
  
Suddenly he froze. He stared at a picture of a young woman. She was so familiar and yet he did not remember ever meeting her. There was something... He had the sensation of chasing a thought that was just out of reach all the time. He continued to stare. The face in the picture began to move, her hairstyle changed slightly and she smiled at him. The walls of the dayroom seemed to melt away and he was surrounded by the sights and sounds of a busy restaurant and the young woman in the photograph was sitting opposite him, smiling and chatting and then, just as quickly as it had begun, the image faded. He was once more in the dayroom staring at the newspaper. He sat in silence for several minutes trying to arrange his thoughts.  
  
He had just remembered part of the time that was missing. He was sure of that. Maybe this woman would be able to help him remember more. He looked back at the article eager to find out who, and more importantly where she was. He read the headlines. "Ex-Model ODs in poverty." His heart sank. Someone who might have held the clues to his missing memory and she was dead. The spiral of despair and negative emotion engulfed him once again.  
  
Mark entered the dayroom and thanked the nurse who had escorted him and pointed out Steve sitting at one of the tables. He moved over to his son. Steve was sitting gripping a newspaper but he was clearly not reading it he was staring at one of the walls.  
  
"Steve?" No response. "Steve?" Still nothing. "Steve, son can you hear me?" This time Mark touched his arm at the same time.  
  
It was enough to penetrate through the clouds of emotion. "She's dead." Steve stated.  
  
Mark was confused. "Who's dead?"  
  
"I think I knew her and she's dead." Steve replied slowly bringing himself back to the world.  
  
Mark looked down at the newspaper that Steve was holding, trying hard to make sense of what his son was telling him. He gently took the paper out of Steve's hand and looked at it more carefully. The headline article on the page was about a former model, Stacey Cliff, who had lost her career through heroin addiction. It seemed that the addiction had finally got the better of her and she had died of an overdose.  
  
Mark pointed at the picture of the woman holding it up in front of Steve. "This woman here. You knew her?" This did not get a response. Mark tried again. Steve was obviously having difficulty concentrating. "Steve, you say you think you knew her?"  
  
Steve did his best to focus on what his father was saying to him. "Yes, I think I remember having dinner with her."  
  
Mark tried to remain calm as he asked the next question. "Do you remember when?"  
  
"It must be from the time I can't remember. I just had the strongest image of being in a restaurant with this woman, of having dinner with her, but I don't remember anything else and I guess she won't be able to help me."  
  
So that explained some of Steve's reactions. Mark realised the significance at once. This must be the young woman he had had dinner with on the night of the attack. Seeing her picture had triggered the memory. "Look at the picture again son, concentrate. Do you remember anything else?"  
  
Steve stared at the picture but there was nothing. He quickly gave up. "No nothing," he said despondently. Mark noticed the difference between his son's mood now and the night before. Frustration and anger had been replaced by despondency and despair. Mark was sure it was not an improvement.  
  
Mark's mind was racing. Concern for his son fought for his attention with the fact that this could be a vital breakthrough in the case. He looked at his son. Steve had gone back to staring at the wall. He made his mind up. It was important that Dr. Carter should know that Steve had remembered something. She would be his first port of call. Then he would ring Nathan and update him on the case. "Steve," he said touching his arm to get his attention again, "I have to go now. Are you going to be alright?"  
  
Steve turned and looked earnestly at his father. "Is it good that I can remember something? Does it mean the rest of my memory will return?" The tone of Steve's question tore at Mark's heart. The question was asked not by a confident adult but as if by a small child looking to his father to reassure him.  
  
"Yes son, it's a good sign, but I don't know if it means the rest of your memories will return. You must just be patient." Mark said in his most comforting tone. "Now, do you think you'll be alright. I have some things I must do."  
  
Steve turned away from his father to stare back at the wall. "I'll be fine," he said without conviction.  
  
Mark watched him, he did not like leaving him. What if he remembered more? He had no choice, however, he had to go and tell the others. He looked around the room and reassured himself that there were nurses there to help if Steve needed them. He turned and went to find Dr. Carter.  
  
Fortunately Dr. Carter had just finished seeing her last patient of the morning. Mark was shown in straight away. "Dr. Sloan," she said as he entered her office. "Please take a seat. How can I help you?"  
  
"I've just spoken to Steve and he's remembered something from the period of the amnesia" Mark said and then continued to explain the circumstances of Steve's recollection.  
  
At the end of his description Dr. Carter was thoughtful She considered for a minute before speaking. "Well the fact that his memory was triggered by a visual cue would suggest that his loss of memory is due to the trauma that he has suffered rather than any physical damage. Which means that it's more hopeful but still not guaranteed that his memories will return I'm glad that he has started to at least remember something. As you know, he is not handling the amnesia or being here well and he is rapidly sinking into depression. Despite your and our best efforts, he is viewing everything very negatively at the moment."  
  
"His returning memory is only likely to make that worse isn't it?" Mark said voicing his concern.  
  
"Yes and no, at the moment he is trying to deal with the unknown and I think to him that could be worse than any real trauma. If we can get him to remember what happened at least we can then try to help him deal with it, instead of the 'limbo' that he is currently in. We can't let him leave but keeping him here is making him worse."  
  
"Maybe we should attempt slightly more drastic measures to get him to remember?" Mark suggested.  
  
"What did you have in mind?"  
  
"Well if seeing a picture helped to trigger a memory, then maybe if we took him back to the restaurant where he was on the evening of the attack, he might remember more."  
  
Dr. Carter considered it. "He would need to be carefully supervised and if he became too agitated.."  
  
"Then we would bring him straight back here. If you approve them myself, Dr. Travis and Dr. Bentley would go with him to ensure that he is alright."  
  
"I appreciate that you are all qualified Doctors, but if I do go along with this then you would have to take one of my staff with you as a precaution."  
  
"Whatever you say."  
  
Dr. Carter was thoughtful again, weighing up the pros and cons of the suggestion. There was no doubt that at the moment Steve's condition was deteriorating rapidly. If this worked then they may be able to start making progress. On the other hand it could trigger the memories to flood back and overwhelm him in the same way that the original attack had. Reliving the entire experience could be much worse for him the second time around. She made up her mind. "OK, but before you take him out there I'm going to meet with him and try to prepare him for what he might remember. He had a vivid flashback from seeing that picture, almost reliving the experience. If he relives the attack." She did not finish the sentence. She did not need to.  
  
Mark tried not to think about it.  
  
"I'll make the necessary preparations and contact you later this afternoon." Dr. Carter said as Dr. Sloan rose to leave.  
  
"Thank you Doctor for all your help."  
  
"No need to thank me yet, let's just both pray that this works."  
  
"Amen to that," said Mark and left for his office in search of a phone. He had to pass on Steve's information about the woman and he needed to talk to Jesse and Amanda.  
  
By 1.00pm Mark had everything arranged. Nathan was checking on Stacey Carter and the body was being brought over for Amanda to examine. The visit to the restaurant with Steve was to take place at 4pm. One of the senior nurses would accompany them. Dr. Carter would meet with Steve at 3 to talk him through what might happen to him.  
  
That left Mark with nearly three hours to fill, he contemplated getting something to eat but he just couldn't face it. To keep his mind occupied he decided to complete the intern review meetings. The short meetings were not really part of the assessment process. That had been done already by the students' mentors in the various departments. These meetings were really just a chance to allow the interns to express their own concerns and ask questions about their new rotations. Each took about 15 minutes and they successfully kept Mark's mind off anything to do with the case or Steve until Mark had to meet with the two students who were moving on to the psych ward as part of their rotation.  
  
Mark met with Dr. Cole Parker first, he was a bright young man, not brilliant but he was going to make a very good doctor. He had all of the qualities needed; he was caring, patient, hard working and able to cope under pressure. All of the reports on him so far had been glowing and Mark took time to give the man the praise he deserved for his work so far in the hospital. On seeing his reaction, Mark added modesty to the young man's list of positive attributes. Cole only had intelligent questions and concerns. He had obviously done his homework on his new assignment. As he left the office Mark considered how much easier teaching medicine would be if all students were like Cole.  
  
There was a knock on the door and the next student entered. Mark had read the file on this man and the contrast between him and Cole was startling. Not just in physical appearance. The man who stood before him now was tall and muscular, 6'2" with a frame to match, whereas Cole was about 5'8" and quite skinny. There was also a considerable age difference; Cole was 22 and this man had entered as a mature student and was in his early thirties. The most important difference as far as Mark was concerned, however, was in attitude. On paper the student before him was quite brilliant. His IQ rating was off the scale and on ability he should have been able to outperform any of the staff in the hospital, but his reports were never better than mediocre. He did what he had to do and nothing more. All the indications were that he would make a competent doctor when he should have been a brilliant one. Mark had also noticed in previous meetings a certain arrogance in the man that he did not like, but on this occasion he wasn't there to judge so he put on his best smile and greeted him.  
  
"Dr. Sharpe please take a seat."  
  
"Please call me Ryan"  
  
"Well Ryan as you know this is just an informal chat, to discuss how you think things have gone and to allow you to ask any questions you may have about your next rotation, before you go on a tour of the ward."  
  
"Cutting it fine aren't you, I'm scheduled for a tour at 2.30 this afternoon?" Ryan asked coldly.  
  
Mark was a little taken aback, as a senior staff member he was not used to being questioned by interns. Yet another sign of the arrogance that he did not like about this man. "Yes, well as you may know I've had some personal problems to deal with."  
  
"Your son?" Ryan asked feigning concern. "He's been admitted as a patient with complications from a head injury hasn't he? I understand he has amnesia?"  
  
"Yes," Mark sighed. The hospital grapevine was obviously alive and well. Mark was just thankful that at least some patient confidentiality had been maintained. News about the attack had not been spread.  
  
"I'm sorry Dr. Sloan I hope he recovers soon."  
  
"Thank you, you'll probably see him around although you won't be working on his case. You've been assigned to Doctor Mendez." Mark paused to look at the man in front of him. He was glad that he wasn't assigned to Dr. Carter. He realised with some regret for the other patients that he would not want this man helping to treat Steve. He attempted to lighten the mood and get back to what they were supposed to be discussing. "As you have so rightly pointed out we don't have a lot of time before your tour. So is there anything you would like to discuss about your previous rotation in pediatrics?"  
  
After a poor start the rest of the meeting went down hill; Mark had to prompt responses and even questions out of Ryan. He began to really understand why reports on this man were mediocre at best. The man's communication skills were poor. Mark hoped he decided to take up a career as a pathologist at least then he wouldn't have to talk to his patients. Mark was glad when the meeting was over. He rarely had trouble communicating with anyone but talking to Ryan had been hard work and try as he might to remain professional, he did not like the man. Even the man's aftershave was pungent and unpleasant, lingering in the air after he had left the room. He checked his watch and picked up a file ready for his next meeting. He figured that he should be able to fit in two more before he had to leave to meet Amanda and Jesse.  
  
Ryan left Mark's office and considered his situation. He had now had it confirmed that Steve Sloan was suffering from amnesia; a piece of good luck at last. It was damned bad luck that Sloan had ended up here as a patient. He should have killed him when he had the chance, but he still wasn't sure which he enjoyed more; exercising the ultimate control over someone by taking their life or having the pleasure of knowing that weeks and months later you still controlled a part of their soul in their nightmares.  
  
It was also bad luck that his next rotation was taking him on to the psych ward. Whilst it could be interesting to come into such close contact with one of his former victims, if there was any chance of Sloan recognising him then he would have to be dealt with. He moved off down the corridor to prepare for his tour. 


	7. 

Part 20 - Remembering.  
  
Steve had spent the next few hours with Laura. She had found him in the dayroom shortly after his father had left and had insisted on playing chess with him. He was not in the mood but Laura would not take no for an answer. He had not played well, Laura had beaten him easily and his dad would have slaughtered him but it had kept his mind occupied which was a blessing. They had also eaten together, he was finding it easier now to communicate with her. The fact that it required more concentration was again helpful in ensuring that he did not brood.  
  
Laura had had to go to a therapy session again leaving Steve on his own. He decided to go back to his room; he did not particularly want anyone else's company. Lost in his own thoughts Steve did not notice the group of doctors who walked past him less than three feet away but he did notice a strangely familiar smell. Where had he come across that aroma before?  
  
Steve barely made it back into his room, again he had that sensation of chasing thoughts that were just out of reach; something he couldn't quite remember and then.  
  
When the flashback hit it was like a physical blow. Steve stumbled backward clutching at the wall for support to stop himself from falling over. He leaned against it heavily as the smells, sights, sounds and feelings of the attack assaulted his senses once again. The hospital room round him melted away and he was once again tied up and helpless. He tried to scream but no sounds escaped from his lips. He slid along the wall seeking protection, seeking to move away from the nightmare images and feelings in front of him but he couldn't escape. He reached the corner and slid down to the floor pulling himself into a ball, trying to seek refuge but it was no good. He could see everything; feel every touch, hear once again the mocking voice of the man who had complete control over him. "No, No Please God No," he repeated over and over again but the horror did not stop. Without the drugs to keep him calm his body responded in shear panic. His heart rate quickened, he began to sweat profusely and his breathing became shallow and ragged. He closed his eyes as tightly as he could and tried to fight off his attacker but it was impossible to fight a memory.  
  
Laura peered round the door into Steve's room. She had finished her therapy session and had come to find her new friend. For some reason she felt relaxed, safe and secure in his company but he always looked so sad. She knew something bad had happened to him, just like something bad had happened to her. She also knew that she could make him smile. She just wished she could help take the sad look out of his eyes too. When she knocked on the door there was no answer. She was turning to leave when she decided to look in just in case he was there but for some reason hadn't heard her. So she quietly opened the door and peered in. She was horrified by what she saw and flung the door open, running across to try to help her friend. He looked awful; curled up in the corner, white as a sheet, sweating heavily. His breathing was ragged and out of control and it looked like he was fighting some invisible enemy.  
  
She crouched momentarily by his side before she realised there was nothing she could do. She needed help. She ran outside and grabbed a startled nurse half dragging her back to Steve's room. "Laura," the nurse called out, trying to extricate her arm from Laura's grip "What are you trying to do? What's the matter?"  
  
By this time Laura's momentum had carried both of them to the door of Steve's room and Laura pointed frantically inside. "Oh my God!" The young nurse let out the exclamation as she saw Steve. "I need help in here," she called out to her nearby colleagues, "and somebody get Dr Carter stat" and with that she rushed into the room.  
  
By now Steve was in crisis. His breathing was so shallow and rapid he was hyperventilating and his whole body was shaking from the excess adrenaline his panicked system was pumping out. He muttered between breaths, "No, stop. Please no!" Desperation and despair in his voice.  
  
The nurse knelt down next to him and speaking in her calmest voice did her best to pull him back to the present. Other staff were coming into the room. By the time Dr Carter arrived there were three nurses. The most senior nurse had taken over the task of trying to calm Steve down. Another had her arms around Laura trying to comfort the terrified young woman. The third was standing by with a sedative in case it was needed. Dr Carter took in the situation at a glance. She looked at Laura first. "What's she doing in here?" She asked the young nurse who was holding her.  
  
"She found him about five minutes ago. They've been spending time together, I think they're becoming quite good friends." The young nurse answered.  
  
"Well take her back to her room and stay with her. I'll come when I've finished here."  
  
The nurse departed with Laura, who was reluctant to leave until she knew her friend was alright, but the young nurse spoke reassuringly to her, promising that Dr. Carter would come and tell them when Steve was better.  
  
Dr. Carter turned her attention back to Steve. She placed her hand on the shoulder of the nurse who was talking to him, who understood the gesture instantly and moved out of the way to let the doctor replace her. Steve stared straight ahead with eyes that were clearly seeing nothing of the room around him. His face was contorted with fear and desperation and he still shook and whispered to an invisible enemy to stop and leave him alone."  
  
"Steve," Dr. Carter began keeping her tone calm and even. "Steve can you hear me? It's Dr. Carter. Steve you're safe in the hospital. No one's going to harm you. Steve?" She repeated the phrases over and over as calmly as she could as she watched the tortured man in front of her, trying to break into the waking nightmare that he was going through.  
  
Steve was back in the candlelit room where the attack had taken place. His mind totally absorbed as he relived every painful moment, but there was something out of place. A calm comforting voice that didn't belong in this nightmare world. It was quiet at first, barely audible, but it grew in strength. It was telling him that he was safe, that he was at the hospital. Slowly the nightmare world around Steve began to dissolve to be replaced by light walls and blurred figures. Steve tried to focus there was someone close to him, talking to him.  
  
"Steve? Can you hear me?" Dr Carter repeated for what must have been the fifteenth time. This time however, there was signs of a response, her patience had paid off. Steve turned his head to look at her. It was clear that he was trying to focus.  
  
"I. Where?. What?" Steve found it difficult to say anything coherent. The tears were rolling down his cheeks as he began to shiver uncontrollably. He was drenched in sweat and although his breathing had settled down a little it was still far too rapid and shallow.  
  
"It's alright Steve you're safe," said Dr. Carter and tried to gently rest a reassuring hand on his shoulder, but Steve flinched back from it. He was too disoriented to recognise the Doctor and the overwhelming emotion that he still felt was fear. Dr Carter studied him, all the time continuing her soothing monologue. She didn't want to use sedation unless it was absolutely necessary. That would only mask the problem instead of help treat it. It was clear that the worst case scenario had happened. Steve's memory had returned in catastrophic fashion and he had relived the entire trauma. He would have to deal with the effects of the attack for a second time. The next few hours were critical in determining Steve's recovery. The first part of which was coming to terms with the fact that the attack had happened.  
  
Dr. Carter turned to the nurses behind her. "Get me a blanket over here, it looks like it may be a while before we'll be able to move him." The blanket was brought over, as gently as they could, the nurse and Dr. Carter wrapped it around him. Dr. Carter was speaking to him again, "Steve everything's going to be alright but I need you to do something for me. I want you to try to concentrate on your breathing, breathe in and out slowly and deeply. That's it, slowly and deeply"  
  
After several minutes of gentle coaxing Steve's breathing had settled down. Some of the colour was returning to his cheeks, but despite the blanket he still continued to shiver. When Dr. Carter was satisfied that the worst of the panic was over, she turned and spoke quietly to the nurse behind her. "You'd better get Dr. Sloan down here, I'll be out to talk to him as soon as I can. I'm going to try to get Steve to move over to the bed, could you get one of the orderlies in here in case we need help and reschedule all of my appointments for this afternoon, I don't know how long this is going to take, Thanks" The nurse left to carry out her list of instructions and Dr Carter turned back to her patient.  
  
Steve's thoughts were confused. He had responded to the calming voice and done as it had instructed but he did not know why. He wasn't sure where he was, or what was happening to him. Then momentarily the mists cleared and his thoughts became lucid. With a frightening clarity the full horror of the flashback he had just experienced and the fact that this was the memory that no one could tell him about hit him. He turned and looked straight into Dr. Carter's eyes. "No wonder no one would tell me." He stated.  
  
Dr. Carter stared back. Her patient's eyes were filled with terror and pain. She could not hold his gaze and looked away. Steve, unable to deal with the intensity of his emotions began to shut down again. His thoughts became jumbled and he turned to stare down at he floor, gripping his legs tightly to his chest, he started rocking backwards and forwards.  
  
Dr. Carter took a deep breath and composed herself. She looked back at Steve and tried to speak to him some more but it quickly became clear that, for the time being at least, he had retreated back into a world of his own. Unwilling or unable to communicate with those around him. Attempts to get him to move met with a similar lack of success and so reluctantly Dr. Carter decided to leave him for a while longer rather than risk increasing his agitation. She left two nurses to watch him and went to check on Laura and then she would have to meet with Mark Sloan.  
  
  
  
Part 21 - Doubts  
  
  
  
Mark had finished the last of his interviews and had gone up to the path lab to meet with Amanda. When he got there Amanda was just putting the finishing touches to the autopsy of Stacey Cliff. Jesse was already there.  
  
"I'm afraid I struck out with our reluctant witness this morning. He's hell bent on pretending that it never happened." Jesse was clearly disappointed by his efforts.  
  
Mark looked at him. "Well it was always a long shot Jess, Nathan had already tried."  
  
"I know I just wish I could have said something to help the guy. He's hurting Mark, just like." he paused, regretting having started the sentence. "Steve." He finished quietly.  
  
Mark put his hand on his young friends shoulder. "I know, that's why we've got to catch this man, before he does this to anyone else. Or worse." He turned to Amanda. "Anything turn up in the autopsy."  
  
"Oh yes, I've positively matched, the hair, lipstick and DNA. This is definitely our accomplice. It looks like our killer couldn't resist having a little fun before he gave her her last high. I have DNA evidence that positively ties him to her just before her untimely demise."  
  
"Let's hope Nathan was able to come up with something from his background check on her that will give us a clue to who we are dealing with." Mark said. At that moment his pager went off. It was an internal number so he went to use the phone on Amanda's desk.  
  
"Dr. Mark Sloan here." He said when the number was answered. He listened for a few moments and his face visibly paled. "I see I'll be down as soon as I can." He said and hung up.  
  
Both Jesse and Amanda were looking at him expectantly. "It's Steve, he's remembered the attack." And without saying anything else he headed out of the room. Jesse and Amanda exchanged worried glances before they followed him.  
  
When Mark got off the elevator there was a nurse waiting for him. She took him straight to Dr. Carter, who was waiting for him in one of the visitors rooms. "Mark," she said as he entered dispensing with formality. "I think you'd better sit down." She waited for him to take a seat before continuing. "I'm afraid that the worst has happened. Steve seems to have had a flashback to the attack and it happened when he was on his own in his room."  
  
Mark sighed and sagged back into the chair, his shoulders dropping as he contemplated the situation. "Do we know how much he remembered or how long the flashback lasted?"  
  
"No, I'm afraid he hasn't calmed down enough to talk about it yet but from the state he was in when he was found I'd say it lasted a considerable length of time. As far as I can ascertain he had been in his room alone for at least thirty minutes before he was found."  
  
"Thirty minutes?" Mark shouted, uncharacteristic anger in his voice. "I thought he was supposed to be under constant supervision?"  
  
"Mark, you know as well as I do we don't have the staff to keep all patients under 24 hour supervision. There was no reason to believe that this would happen. You were going to take him out yourself to try to stimulate his memory."  
  
"I know." Mark gripped the arms of the chair. He knew that there was no justification for his anger. "I'm sorry for shouting it's just all getting to me."  
  
"I understand."  
  
"Do we know what triggered the memory?"  
  
"No, again I'm sorry. No one was there and no one noticed anything unusual. Steve had been in the dayroom with one of our other patients, Laura. When Laura went off to her therapy session Steve hung around for a few minutes and then went to his room."  
  
"Can this Laura help. Were they perhaps discussing something which could have brought the memory back?"  
  
"I doubt it Dr. Sloan. You see Laura is mute. She hasn't spoken a word in over five years. I doubt if there's anything she could help us with, but I will ask. Our most important consideration at the moment isn't what triggered the memories but how we help Steve deal with them."  
  
"How is he ? Can I see him?"  
  
"Well he's not really up to visitors. He's still very distressed and isn't communicating." She thought for a moment longer. " On the other hand, I think it might be helpful if you could talk to him. Let him know that you are there for him. A familiar voice might make all the difference."  
  
They both got up and Dr. Carter led him out of her office. In the corridor Jesse and Amanda were waiting for them. Mark stopped long enough to fill them in on Steve's condition and asked them to wait. Then he followed Dr. Carter.  
  
They were about to enter Steve's room when Mark stopped, suddenly uncertain. He half turned and leaned his back against the wall. Dr. Carter paused in the action of opening the door and studied Mark's pale complexion.  
  
"Dr. Sloan?.. Mark is there something wrong?" She asked concerned.  
  
"God forgive me but I don't know if I can do this." He swallowed hard and then turned to look at her. "Over the past two weeks I've had to watch Steve go through so much emotional pain and I've been powerless to help him or protect him from it and now we're back to square one. I don't know if I can watch him go through it all again. I'm afraid that I don't have the emotional strength to cope with it myself, much less help him to cope with it."  
  
Dr. Carter took her hand off the door handle and placed it on Mark's arm instead. She tried to reassure him first. "I know this is difficult for you, but trust me. You are helping just by being there for Steve. He may not show it. He may even push you away, but he needs you, and I know that you have the strength to see this through." She waited for a few moments before giving Mark the option not to continue. If he genuinely couldn't cope then he would be a hindrance not a help. She needed him to believe in himself "but look if you genuinely feel that you're not up to it then I can do this without you."  
  
Mark struggled with his self doubt. He wanted to be there for Steve but could he go through it again? He looked at Dr. Carter, she was waiting for his answer. He took a deep breath and squared his shoulders. "No, I can do this."  
  
She smiled at him, "Good," and she opened the door.  
  
Steve was still sitting on the floor in the corner of his room draped in the blanket. He was rocking gently backwards and forwards as he had been when Dr Carter left. He looked quite calm now, but it was clear that he had been crying. His hair was still plastered to his head from the profuse sweating. Mark almost faltered as he entered the room. His heart sank once again and his stomach tied itself in knots but he took another deep breath and walked over to crouch beside his son. Dr Carter took up a similar position on the other side.  
  
"Steve?" He said gently  
  
This time the familiar voice alone was enough to penetrate the mists in Steve's mind. He turned in the direction of the voice, trying to focus on the blurry image. "Dad?"  
  
"Steve we're going to help you over to the bed OK?"  
  
Steve nodded slightly and Dr. Carter took one side whilst Mark took the other and they helped Steve shakily to his feet. As Mark helped his son over to the bed he noticed that he was still shaking.  
  
Once he was settled Mark attempted to get him to talk. "Steve can you tell us about what just happened to you."  
  
Steve did not look up but he spoke quietly and hesitantly. "I remembered.. what happened to me..I think that I remember.. everything." And then he started to get agitated again "but it wasn't like a memory. It was like.. like I was there again." The distress in his voice increased. "Reliving it."  
  
Dr Carter broke in. "It's alright Steve. Try to stay calm concentrate on your breathing."  
  
"But I.." began Steve.  
  
Mark interrupted, "Steve, it's OK. Just tell us what you can in your own time."  
  
Steve thought for a few moments. He concentrated on steadying his breathing and realised that he didn't have the strength or the will to talk about what he had been through. He felt emotionally and physically drained. "Can we talk about this later? I really feel wiped out." The strain was clear in his voice.  
  
Mark looked at Dr Carter. She was happy that they had made some progress. Her initial fear had been that Steve would withdraw completely. She nodded.  
  
"OK son, I'll be here if you need me." Mark said.  
  
"And I'll be back in a couple of hours to check on you." Dr Carter said rising. "The nurse will stay with you. Just tell her if you need anything"  
  
Mark and Dr. Carter left the room together. As they got out of the door Dr. Carter put a hand on Mark's shoulder. "Well done, I knew that you could do it."  
  
Mark continued to look at the door to his son's room for a few moments more, tears had welled up in his eyes. "Thank you for your help." He turned to look at her, "but where do we go from here.?"  
  
"Well now that I'm sure he's communicating I'm going to try to get him to talk through his experiences and his reactions to them. I'll give him some time to rest first. These episodes can be quite exhausting. You are welcome to come back this evening. He'll hopefully be up to visitors by then. As I said earlier it's important that he knows he has the support of his family and friends."  
  
"He has that," said Mark and moved off to find Jesse and Amanda.  
  
Part 22 - Dead Ends  
  
  
  
Ryan stood watching Mark move off down the corridor toward him. His tour was long since over but he had remained behind ostensibly to familiarise himself with the layout, but actually because of something that he had overheard. According to the snatches of conversation that he had picked up on, Steve Sloan had regained his memory. Some sort of intense flashback. Ryan had wished that he had been able to watch. He had tried unsuccessfully to find out more. Now seeing Dr. Sloan gave him the perfect opportunity. He moved out into Mark's path and pretending not to see him deliberately collided with him.  
  
"Dr Sloan, I'm so sorry I didn't see you there." He said apologetically.  
  
"What? Oh Dr Sharpe, no it's fine."  
  
Mark did not want to get into a conversation and would have been happy to leave it there but Ryan continued. "I'm just familiarising myself with the ward ready for next week. What brings you down here?" He paused for just the right length of time, his acting abilities worthy of an Oscar, before he looked down and added in a slightly embarrassed tone. "Oh, I'm sorry, of course, your son. How is he?"  
  
Mark was taken in, maybe he had misjudged this guy, maybe he wasn't that bad after all. "Yes, I'm down here to see Steve. He's regained some of his memory but he's still quite unwell."  
  
Ryan smiled. "I'm glad that there has been some progress," then he feigned concern, "and I hope he recovers soon."  
  
"Thank you. I really must go now."  
  
"Yes, I'm sorry to have delayed you."  
  
Mark moved off. Once he had passed Ryan the expression on the man's face changed from a look of concern to one of enjoyment. If only Mark knew! So Steve had remembered the attack, which whilst enjoyable for the moment, could mean problems when Ryan came to work on the ward next week. He would have to make contingency plans so that he would be ready.  
  
By the time Mark reached Jesse and Amanda, they had been joined by Nathan. He was there to find out the details on the autopsy and update them on what he had found out, but for the time being he put all consideration of the case on the back burners and waited for Mark to tell them about Steve.  
  
"How is he?" Jesse asked.  
  
"Not good I'm afraid, he relived the entire experience and is in extreme distress, but Dr. Carter seems to think that he will respond to therapy. She's going to make a start later this afternoon. All we can do now is let Steve know that we are here for him."  
  
Amanda was studying her old friend, Mark looked tired and anxious, the worry was clearly taking its toll on him too. They all needed to be there for each other. "Can we see him?" She asked.  
  
"He's resting now. Dr. Carter says we should come back this evening. We can all see him then."  
  
"Until then let's get on with the case then." Amanda said, wanting to get Mark thinking about something else. Keeping everyone busy seemed the best way forward. "I have an autopsy report for Nathan in my lab."  
  
"And I hope you have some information for us." Said Mark looking at Nathan.  
  
The four headed for the elevator together. Ryan watched them pass him at the nurses station. He was studying a map of the layout of the ward. He knew Dr Travis and Dr Bentley but did not recognise the fourth person in the group. He asked the other nurses who were standing with him.  
  
"Oh that," said the nurse behind him. "That's a police detective, he's investigating the attack on Dr Sloan's son."  
  
One of the other nurses looked at her "How do you know that?" She asked.  
  
"Well don't you think he's kind of cute?" Was the first nurse's reply and they giggled as they went back to their work.  
  
Ryan watched the group until they had disappeared into the elevator. Yes contingency plans would have to be made.  
  
Back in the pathology lab Amanda filled Nathan in on his autopsy findings and he updated the group on where the investigation had got to in other areas. Most of the things that had been followed up were dead ends. They still had no idea how the victims were chosen and now that their man had killed his accomplice, they didn't know what MO he may adopt for his next attack.  
  
"The only strong lead we've got now is this young woman. I've got an address and a search warrant for her apartment. If you can call it that. One room in a sleazy block downtown. I stopped here on my way over to check it out."  
  
"Can I come with you?" Jesse asked eager to be more involved.  
  
"Sure," replied Nathan, "But don't you have to work?"  
  
"No, It's my day off. The only reason I'm here at all is because I came to talk to Amanda and check on Steve."  
  
"Then that's settled." Nathan looked at Mark and Amanda. "We'll let you know what we find out."  
  
It took only twenty minutes to drive to the dilapidated old five storey block that Stacey Cliff had called home. They checked the address and walked up to what remained of the building. Both Nathan and Jesse felt the same dismay as they regarded the burnt out wreck. The recent fire had been put out before it had brought the building down completely, but much of the inside had been completely destroyed. They walked up the steps to the main door, which was missing. Yellow tape, which read 'Condemned' sealed off the entrance.  
  
Nathan started to move the tape. "Hey what are you doing?" Jesse asked.  
  
"I came here to search an apartment and I'm going to take a look at it." There was a mixture of determination and anger in his voice. He continued to move the tape so that he could get through.  
  
"But the building's been condemned. It could be dangerous." Jesse cautioned  
  
"I came here to look for clues. I've been working on this for months and this is the closest I've got to a break." The anger was becoming more evident. "This guy has covered his tracks really well but if there's the slightest chance that the fire missed something then I am going to find it." He moved through the entrance. "Now are you coming or not?"  
  
Jesse sighed and then followed.  
  
The fire had been intense. When they got to Stacey Cliff"s apartment it was obvious even to the untrained eye that the fire had started there. The damage spread out. It's intensity fading the further from the apartment you got. The acrid smell of smoke still hung in the air.  
  
Jesse took a sharp intake of breath as he entered the apartment. The inside was totally gutted. Nathan was already standing in the centre of the room. "I worked arson for a few months before my current assignment. It looks like a high temperature accelerant was used." He paused before adding with frustration. "Damn him! We won't find anything here."  
  
"What I can't figure out," said Jesse looking around the unrecognisable objects in the room. "Is if you are going to cover your tracks by burning everything like this, then why leave the body elsewhere? Why not leave it here when you start the fire. It would have been virtually impossible to identify any forensic evidence."  
  
"But don't you understand Jess," said Nathan quietly. He looked over and met Jesse's gaze. "I think he's playing with us."  
  
TO BE CONTINUED.. 


	8. 

Part 23 - Games  
  
Steve dropped into a fitful sleep shortly after his father and Dr. Carter left. He slept for around an hour before waking with a start. It took him a few moments to remember where he was. He tried hard not to think about why he was there. He sat up and looked around the room a young nurse sat a few feet from the bed. She was watching him.  
  
She moved over to the bed. "Can I get you anything?"  
  
"No, I'm fine." He replied quietly. "I'm going to take a shower. If that's alright?" He added as an afterthought.  
  
"OK Mr Sloan but I'm afraid you're going to have to leave the door open. I'm supposed to keep an eye on you."  
  
Steve was too drained to respond to this with any emotion. Under normal circumstances he would have been at least indignant if not angry at the idea of needing a baby-sitter to take a shower but the events of the last few hours and now that he remembered them the last few days left him unable to respond with anything but a conciliatory. "Fine."  
  
He spent an hour in the shower. He used hot water and went through an entire bar of soap. He still did not feel clean. The nurse eventually insisted that it was time to get out. He had just got changed into some fresh clothes and felt a little more human when Dr. Carter returned.  
  
She spent the next two and a half hours with him. She calmly took him through what was likely to happen to him now that he had regained his memory and explained the treatment once again. There were some differences from the last time they had had this discussion. Not least of which was consideration of the possibility of further flashbacks. One of the areas of treatment would be to teach him strategies to cope with these if they occurred.  
  
Dr. Carter then tried to get Steve to talk about his experiences. He found it impossible to talk about the attack itself but after a lot of patient coaxing he managed to discuss some of his feelings and his reactions. Especially the emotional void that he felt most of the time. He realised that even when he hadn't remembered the attack he had still felt.. he tried hard to put the feeling into words, 'empty' was the closest he could come.  
  
Now that he knew what had triggered his emotions he was beginning to make a little more sense out of why he felt like this but he could not see that knowing why would help him change how he felt. His outlook was entirely negative. Dr. Carter knew it would take time to change those ideas round.  
  
Finally she decided her patient had had enough for one day. They had made good progress and, although she knew Steve could not see it, she was happy with the way the session had gone.  
  
"Before we finish I have a request." Steve said deliberately not looking at her.  
  
"Yes?" she prompted.  
  
Steve was hesitant before replying. "My dad and my friends: Jesse and Amanda. I don't want to see them. I..I can't face them"  
  
"Because of what happened to you?"  
  
"Partly I. yes, partly because they know what happened but also because.." There was a long pause.  
  
"Because?" She prompted.  
  
"Because of what I tried to do."  
  
"The suicide attempt?"  
  
"Yes," his response was barely audible.  
  
Dr. Carter studied Steve, he would not look her in the eye. He couldn't when he was talking about his emotions. She decided to push him a little. The support of family and friends could, as she had already said, be an important part of recovery, but false thoughts about how they would react could also be a hindrance. "Why?" she asked.  
  
"Pardon?"  
  
"Why? Why can't you face them?"  
  
Steve thought about it. "I'm afraid."  
  
"Of what?" Steve did not answer. She tried again. "Afraid of what Steve?"  
  
"That they won't.. understand.. That they won't forgive me and" he paused for longer this time. "Afraid that they'll be disappointed in me, afraid that I haven't lived up to their expectations."  
  
"Is that important to you?"  
  
"Yes"  
  
"Steve, you're talking about your friends, your family. They love you and care for you. Do you really think that they will judge you like that?"  
  
"Yes ... no... I don't know." Steve was getting agitated. "Look I just know that I can't face them at the moment. Please I don't want to see them."  
  
"OK I'll let them know," she knew that she had pushed him as far as she could. "But just for the time being You will have to face them eventually."  
  
"I know." Steve relaxed a little. "Thank you," he added quietly.  
  
When Jesse and Nathan had returned rather dejectedly from their visit to Stacey Cliff's burnt out apartment they had met up with Mark and Amanda, both of whom had finished for the day. They decided to take what new evidence they had back to their make-shift incident room at the beach house. Mark knew it would be several hours before he could see Steve so he had left word with Dr. Carter's office to contact him at the beach house and they had all made their way there.  
  
They were adding the thousands of small facts that had been gathered about each of the victims to their profiles when the phone rang. Mark went to answer it whilst the others carried on with their task. It was only when he hadn't returned after several minutes that Amanda became concerned and went to look for him. She found him sitting on his bed looking at the floor.  
  
"Mark, are you OK?" She asked.  
  
"Oh Yes, I'm sorry," he pointed at the phone." That was Dr. Carter. Steve is making good progress."  
  
"I'm sensing a 'but' here."  
  
When Mark replied his voice was heavy with emotion. It almost cracked as he spoke. "He doesn't want to see us; you, Jess, me. He doesn't want to see any of us." There were tears in his eyes. "His own father and he doesn't want to see me. How can I help him now?"  
  
Amanda went over and put her arms around him. "I'm sure it's just temporary. You wait and see, he'll be begging us to come visit him soon." She said with more conviction than she felt. She held him for a little while longer before she pulled away. "Now come on let's go and get this case solved so that when we do see him at least we can give him some good news." She forced a smile. "And don't worry," she added, "I'll explain to Jesse."  
  
"Thanks," said Mark and they returned to the others.  
  
The next two days dragged past for Mark. He divided his time between work at the hospital and work on the case but his mind kept drifting back to Steve. He had found it difficult to see him on the day of the first flashback and guilt for those feelings plagued him. After all Steve did not have a choice in whether or not he wanted to deal with this. Now not being able to see Steve, to verify for himself that he was alright, made things much worse.  
  
As a consequence of his constant distraction Mark had made little progress thinking about the case, apart from coming to the conclusion that the key to solving it was to figure out how the victims were chosen. Mark was sure that these weren't just random attacks.  
  
Steve had spent the next two days in fairly intensive therapy. He had had several more flashbacks but none of them of the intensity or duration of the first. The brief images and associated feelings of being trapped and helpless sent him each time into a state of panic. Each time it took him time to calm down. Some of his therapy sessions were spent learning breathing techniques and other strategies to help lessen the effects.  
  
Night time was the most difficult to cope with. Despite the exhausting effect of the flashbacks and his emotional response to them, sleep did not come easily. Dr. Carter had to prescribe something to help him and, even with this, his nights could not be called restful.  
  
He attended group as well as individual sessions and in his free time he spent a lot of time in the communal area being forced to play one of the departments many board games with Laura, who seemingly did not understand the word no. Occasionally some of the other patients would join in but more often than not it was just the two of them. They seemed to find comfort in each others company.  
  
In the group sessions Steve started to get some insight into the trauma that had brought Laura here. She had learnt how to sign and always had an interpreter with her so that she could fully participate in the therapy sessions.  
  
Five years earlier she had been involved in a car crash with her family. It took place on a remote road and they had not been found for 17 hours. By the time they were found she was the only one left alive. She had screamed for help until her voice had given out and had not spoken since. It had taken five years of therapy to get her to the stage she was now at. She was expecting to be able to leave the hospital soon and start her new life. Despite her continuing inability to speak she was one of the success stories of the department. Steve got the strong impression that for a long time it looked like she would remain hospitalised for life.  
  
In his individual sessions with Dr. Carter, Steve made a little more progress each time as he learned to talk about what was happening to him. She also did her best to break down some of Steve's barriers to seeing his father and friends. She knew that as long as he could not face them there would be a barrier to his progress. Steve had begun to show interest in whether they had caught the attacker or not. Dr. Carter used this interest, pointing out that his father would know far more than her. At first Steve refused to consider the idea but by the end of the second day he was willing to try to face his father. So it was arranged that Mark would come and visit on Saturday.  
  
On the evening of the second day everyone was once again at Mark's house sifting through the new evidence. Mark paused and looked around. It was a familiar scene. Himself, Jesse and Amanda poring over evidence in the back room of the beach house. There was only one thing wrong. Steve was not there. Detective Nathan Turner was there in his place and good though he was it just wasn't the same. Mark sighed heavily.  
  
"Mark?" Jesse asked, thinking that Mark had spotted something in the information he was checking.  
  
"What, oh nothing Jess, I just drifted off for a moment. Come on let's get back to it. It's going to be another long night."  
  
Jesse looked at him. He could imagine where his thoughts had drifted off to, Steve was never far from his thoughts either. Still he was right it was going to be another long session and they didn't seem to be any closer to finding what they needed.  
  
Ryan moved quietly out of the on call room and slipped into the stairwell. It was Friday night and his last night on pediatrics. All of the interns then had the weekend off before moving to their new wards.  
  
Ryan had everything in hand for his next victim. He had planned everything down to the last detail. He now just had to wait for tomorrow evening. In the meantime he had decided to have a little fun.  
  
It looked like Sloan would definitely be a liability once he moved on to the psych ward and would have to be dealt with. So tonight was his last opportunity to try a little experiment, a new game. He would never get a better opportunity.  
  
Once on the ward, Ryan hid himself in a vacant room opposite Steve's and waited for the nurse to complete her half hourly check. He then slid silently into Steve's room. The trickiest and most risky part was getting Steve's hands into the restraints without waking him up, but it was the risk that made it all the more interesting. Ryan was not so careful about putting the gag over Steve's mouth, by then it was too late for Steve to do anything about it. He woke up with a start.  
  
Steve woke up into another nightmare flashback. He tried to move his arms but they were tied down. He could smell the same pungent odour, hear the mocking voice. His eyes opened in shear terror at his helplessness.  
  
This time it was different though, There were no candles and he still seemed to be in the hospital room. He was still unable to speak or cry out, not because of drugs paralysing his vocal cords but because he was gagged. The shadowy figure stood away from him to one side and mocked him. Steve tried to fight but the bonds were too tight. He tried to sit up but he was pushed back down.  
  
Ryan watched in amusement, he had been right. He did not need to lay a finger on Steve, suggestion was now enough to terrify the man. Maybe he would try revisiting some of his other victims. He laughed aloud, gloating in his total control. He wished he could enjoy it for longer but if he let it go on for too long, even with the soft padding, Steve might hurt himself on the restraints and Ryan did not want to leave any visible evidence that he had been here. Reluctantly Ryan moved over to the bed.  
  
Steve tried hard to control his reactions to the 'flashback' but to no avail. He was panicking, heart racing, breathing out of control, when the 'memory' took on another new twist from his previous recollection. His attacker moved in and placed a cloth over his mouth and nose so he couldn't breathe. He struggled as much as he could but there was nothing he could do. He gasped for breath, his panic increasing as his vision started to fade to black from the edges. His last conscious thought was "Oh God! This time he's going to kill me!"  
  
Ryan made it back to the on call room and entered. He was annoyed to find fellow intern Dr. Cole Parker sitting on the bed opposite. Why was the man always so damned cheerful even at one in the morning. "Hi Ryan, it's been pretty quiet where ya' been"  
  
"Couldn't sleep, worrying about the kid in 502. So I decided to take a walk, clear my head." Ryan lied expertly.  
  
"Yeah rough one that. Similar story for me; boy in 519. That's why I was reading. Guess we'd both better try get some sleep though?"  
  
"Yeah good idea," he said, putting out the light and laying on the cot but he did not go to sleep. Instead he lay staring at the ceiling, replaying his 'games' in his head.  
  
Part 24 - Fame is a Curse  
  
Mark took his glasses off and pinched the ridge of his nose. He looked at his watch. It was late, very late probably time that they called it a night. Amanda had left a couple of hours earlier to collect her kids. The problem was they all knew that they were running out of time. If they didn't get a break soon then the killer was going to strike again. It had been almost a week since his last attack, unless you counted Stacey Cliff and Mark was inclined to think that she could not be included. She wasn't one of his victims, just some of the hired help who had outlived their usefulness.  
  
"So let's review where we're up to." Mark said putting his glasses back on. "And then I suggest we all get some sleep or we won't be in any fit state to work tomorrow."  
  
"Where do you want to start?" Jesse asked.  
  
"What do we know about our killer?"  
  
"He's male, Caucasian, somewhere around 6' tall, athletic build. That's all we've been able to get from the victims who are the only people to have seen him." Nathan replied.  
  
"According to the pharmacology specialist I spoke to at the university," Jesse added. "He most likely has some sort of medical background or the guy's done extensive research. He ran some computer simulations of the effects on the body of the drug cocktail we found in the victim's systems. The drug mixture contained a combination of sedatives and muscle relaxants designed to make the victim completely unable to move but conscious."  
  
"Have we got any leads yet on where he might be getting the drugs from?" Asked Mark directing his question at Nathan.  
  
"No, nothing as yet but I have got people checking out both legal and illegal outlets for all of these drugs. Trouble is there are a myriad of jobs that this guy could have that would give him legitimate access to most of these drugs; Doctor, nurse, pharmacist, hell he could even be a vet and that's just the legitimate sources. Unless we get lucky I don't think the drugs source will help."  
  
Mark sat back. "Then our only other likely lead is the victims. How is he choosing them?"  
  
"That's the million dollar question." Jesse said. Mark ignored it.  
  
"What do they all have in common?".  
  
"You mean besides the fact that they are all victims in this case." Jesse couldn't resist the urge to be a little sarcastic. Days spent sifting through what seemed like millions of snippets of information for links between the victims and finding nothing had left him a little jaded.  
  
"Jesse," Mark showed his disapproval in his tone.  
  
"Sorry Mark, it's just there is nothing that seems to link these guys together. We've been through every aspect of their lives from where they shop to what they eat for breakfast and there is nothing to link them."  
  
"Even the background checks have turned up nothing, different schools, colleges. Two of them moved here from out of state!" Nathan added frustration in his voice.  
  
"And yet there has to be something." Mark insisted.  
  
"Does there?" Asked Nathan. "Maybe we can't find anything because there is nothing to find. Maybe he just picks his victims randomly."  
  
"No everything is too well planned for that. When Amanda went back and interviewed people in the bars where these men met Stacey, they all said that they had never seen her before that night and they all had the impression that she was there to meet someone. That doesn't sound like a random selection of victim to me. The bars are too far apart and in different parts of the city. No, I believe that Stacey was sent into those bars to specifically pick up those men."  
  
"So where does that get us?" Asked Nathan.  
  
"Still nowhere" Jesse said dejectedly. "About the only thing these people have in common is their success. They are all good at their chosen careers and Steve has about the worst paid job amongst them. Not that that helps us much."  
  
Suddenly Mark's face lit up. That was it, the clue he had been looking for. How could he have missed it? "Ah but I think it does, thanks Jess"  
  
Nathan and Jesse both looked at Mark. Jesse broke into a wide grin as he realised the significance of the expression on Mark's face and he knew that once again he had triggered Mark to realise something that would help solve the case. "You're welcome." He replied, as usual not having a clue what he had been thanked for. They both waited for Mark to enlighten them as he hurriedly sorted through bits of paper and checked through files.  
  
"The fact that they are all successful is what links them. It's so obvious but we've got so many bits of paper here that we've all managed to overlook it." Mark searched through pieces of paper selecting some as he continued to explain. "About a week before the attack Steve had his picture in the paper. He was the principle detective involved in a high profile murder case: the Martin case. Paul Dunn had a full page feature done on him when he became the youngest vice president of the 5th National bank."  
  
Jesse continued the line of thinking. "Peter Carpenter was featured because of a multi million dollar business merger. Carl West took over as principal at one of the cities best junior high schools." By this time both Jesse and Nathan were helping to find the newspaper cuttings from in amongst everything else.  
  
"So all of the victims were featured in the paper. That's how he's choosing his victims - from the local press. In fact," Mark had been looking at the dates on those articles that still had the page headers. "I could be wrong, but from the dates it looks like the attacks took place exactly one week after each of the victims was featured. I can't be sure because some of these articles have the dates cut off." He looked at Nathan. " Maybe you could check the dates of these other articles against the dates of the attacks"  
  
"Consider it done," Nathan replied, new energy in his voice. At last a break that they could really work with.  
  
"And could you get all of the newspapers for the area for last weekend?" Mark added. "We need to try to figure out who his next victim is going to be."  
  
"I'm ahead of you." Nathan had taken out cell phone and was dialing. It was time to wake some people up.  
  
At 1.30 the nurse checked in on Steve. It was not a physical check just a visual one: to see that he was in bed and wasn't in an agitated state. She saw that he was there, he seemed to be sleeping peacefully. She made a note in her log and carried on with her rounds.  
  
TO BE CONTINUED.. 


	9. 

Part 24 - The Right Victim?  
  
Nathan left shortly after ringing the station. Mark and Jesse tried to get some sleep. They could do nothing more without the newspapers and they would have their work cut out for them the following morning going through the papers trying to see if they could decide who the next victim was. This could literally mean the difference between life and death for someone. Although both men were exhausted, neither of them slept well, a mixture of anxiety and excitement at actually having a lead at last combined to make the relaxed state necessary for sleep difficult to achieve.  
  
Jesse stayed in the guest bedroom. He was beginning to forget what his own apartment looked like, he had stayed at the beach house so much recently. Mark appreciated him being there. He did not like being alone in the house, well not until Steve was better. It would also be more convenient when Nathan returned in the morning with the information, if Jesse was already there.  
  
Ten minutes after the nurse had checked on him Steve woke up screaming. He was once again drenched in sweat. This time it wasn't the nightmare images that caused his panic, instead he was convinced that he was going to die. In his panicked and disoriented state it took him several minutes to realise that he was no longer restrained and that he could actually breathe. By the time he was calm enough to take in his surroundings there were two nurses with him, talking to him with the same calm clarity that they always did. Their soothing tones helped to bring him back to reality  
  
Steve relaxed a little as he realised that he was safe. He was in his hospital room. 'Hospital room!' That last thought sent him reeling into panic again,; it triggered a strong memory from his most recent 'flashback'. The hospital room! That was where he had been attacked. He looked frantically around again. Was the attacker still there? Suddenly he felt anything but safe. He could feel the cloth over his mouth again. He tried to breath, to suck air desperately into his lungs. Since the restriction was only in his imagination, he quickly began to hyperventilate, increasing his anxiety and feeding the viscious cycle that now took hold.  
  
The nurses looked at each other with surprise. Steve had been calming down, looking as though he was coming out of it when he suddenly looked around, terrified of his surroundings. The panic rapidly became worse than when they had found him He was hyperventilating and nothing they were saying was having any effect. "Get the doctor," the more senior of the two said, "I'll keep trying to calm him." The other nurse nodded and quickly left the room.  
  
When the Doctor arrived, Steve was still extremely distressed. All attempts to get him calm and rational enough to use the breathing techniques he had been taught failed. Reluctantly the Doctor ordered a further mild sedative. Doctor Carter would need to know about this. It was definitely a backwards step.  
  
It was 7.30 am when Nathan pulled back into the drive at the beach house. He had not had any sleep but the excitement at having a break in the case allowed him to ignore his fatigue. He knocked hard on the door and waited patiently. He knew he would probably be waking Mark and Jesse up. Eventually Mark appeared, still in his night-clothes and let him in.  
  
Mark yawned. "You look terrible," he said, turning to go back into the house.  
  
"Thank you and good morning to you too," replied Nathan cheerily.  
  
"Did you get any sleep?" Mark asked as he led the way to the kitchen.  
  
"No, you?"  
  
"A little." By this time they were in the kitchen and Mark put the coffee on. Nathan unloaded the pile of papers he was carrying on to the table.  
  
Mark moved over to join him as he waited for the coffee. Nathan began to fill him in on the progress that had been made. "You were right about the dates, Mark. Each victim was attacked exactly one week after being in the paper. In fact we may be able to tie in a few more incidents now that we know what we are looking for."  
  
"Have you had a chance to check through for likely victims in last weekend's papers?"  
  
"Yes, going from the pattern so far, matching age and physical appearance. We looked for anyone who appeared because of a recent success in their chosen career and eliminated anyone who did not have their photograph featured. That gives us four possibles for tonight and six for tomorrow. I've got teams out checking on the backgrounds of all of them to see if they are likely to be out tonight or tomorrow and if so where."  
  
Mark picked up the newspaper on top and indicating that he would like to check through it asked, "do you mind?"  
  
"No of course not. The men we've picked out have been marked with highlighter."  
  
Mark quickly became engrossed in checking through the papers for himself and scrutinising in minute detail the articles about the most likely victims. He forgot completely about the coffee and it was up to Nathan to finish fixing it.  
  
At 9am Jesse's cell phone rang. It took a couple of seconds for him to realise what it was and drag himself awake. He had finally fallen asleep at around 4am and so was still fairly groggy. He had slept straight through Nathan's arrival. "Hello," Jesse answered rubbing the sleep out of his eyes and trying to force his mind to respond coherently.  
  
"Hello is that Dr. Travis? Dr. Jesse Travis?" A male voice responded from the other end of the line.  
  
"Yes, Who is this?" Jesse said still trying to wake himself.  
  
"It's Paul Dunn Dr. Travis You came to my office the other day"  
  
At the name a surge of adrenaline snapped Jesse awake instantly. "Yes, I remember." He said a million and one thoughts as to the reason for the call rushing through his mind. "How can I help you?"  
  
The voice at the other end was hesitant. "Well actually that's what I was ringing about. You already have helped me I wanted to.. to thank you."  
  
"For what?" asked Jesse confused.  
  
"After you left the other day I thought long and hard about what you said, about the whole thing catching up on me if I didn't face it. I knew you were right and .. I don't know, there was just something about the concern in your voice... Anyway I decided to start in therapy. I've had my first session and I can already feel it starting to help. So thank you. I could have been storing up much bigger problems for the future."  
  
"You're welcome," said Jesse feeling a moment of elation as he realised that he had actually done some serious good with his visit. If not for the case then at least for this man.  
  
"Another reason I had to call. You said that if I remembered anything.."  
  
Jesse interrupted him before he could finish the sentence eager to encourage him to reveal any clue however small. "Yes anything, anything at all would help." Jesse could not keep the eagerness out of his voice, he rarely could.  
  
"Well I'm not sure that it will help."  
  
"Don't worry you'd be surprised how often that what seems like an insignificant detail can actually help to catch a killer." How many times had Mark proved that to be true.  
  
"OK then, the only thing I can clearly remember at the moment is a," he paused, obviously having difficulty with the memory, "a smell."  
  
"A smell?"  
  
"Yes, it's like.. like a really strong aftershave. One of those cheap brands that hangs around in the air after you've moved away. I couldn't tell you which make it is. At least I don't think I could."  
  
There was a silence whilst Jesse thought about how the information might help them. Paul took the silence for disappointment with what he had said. "I told you it wasn't much."  
  
"No it's a great help honestly Mr Dunn," Jesse said with characteristic enthusiasm. "Thank you for taking the time to call me."  
  
"Not at all. As I said I think that I owe you. Please understand that I still can't afford to testify if you do catch this guy, but I hope that you do. He does need to be stopped."  
  
"Yes he does. If you think of or remember anything else."  
  
"Then I'll be in touch. Goodbye Dr. Travis, thank you again."  
  
He hung up and Jesse pulled his phone away from his ear and stared at it. He was still not entirely sure he hadn't dreamt the whole conversation. He shook himself back to reality and looked at the clock 9.10am. Nathan should have been back hours ago. Why hadn't anyone wakened him? He scrambled out of bed and into the shower.  
  
In record time Jesse entered into the kitchen fully dressed. "Hi Nathan, How long have you been here? Why didn't either of you wake me. What have you found out on the case?" Jesse's string of questions continued all the way as he entered, got himself a cup of coffee and moved to the table, picking up one of the newspapers. "Hey you'll never guess who just rang me or why he.."  
  
"Jesse" Mark said sharply enough to bring his young friend back to his senses. Both he and Nathan were watching him with bemused looks on their faces. Mark was pleased to see Jesse behaving almost like his old self. Over the last couple of weeks Jesse, like all of them, had been very subdued. Concern for Steve overriding all other emotions. Now that Steve was a little better and it looked like they may actually solve this case Jesse's mood had lifted.  
  
"What I . Oh sorry, guess I got a little carried away there, didn't give you much of a chance to answer." Jesse with visible effort calmed himself.  
  
"That's right," Mark smiled. "Now which question would you like us to answer first."  
  
Jesse could not wait to hear what news they had for him so he launched into a description of his phone conversation with Paul Dunn.  
  
At the end of it Mark congratulated him. "Well done Jess, I guess you did some good with your visit after all. Not only did you help Paul Dunn towards his recovery but we now have another lead. We can get Amanda to check Peter Carpenter and Stacey Cliff's clothing for traces of this aftershave. Maybe we'll even get lucky and identify it."  
  
"I'll ring her and get her to make a start." Jesse offered.  
  
"No, I need to go out to the hospital to visit Steve so I'll ask her." Mark looked at his watch. "Speaking of which I'd better get my skates on I promised that I would be there at 10.30."  
  
Mark went to get dressed leaving Nathan to fill Jesse in on progress so far.  
  
At just after 10 Mark reappeared ready to leave for the hospital. "Do you want to come with me Jess and help Amanda."  
  
"No it's OK," Jesse replied. "I'll stay here with Nathan and keep going through these articles. Say hi to Steve for me. Tell him I'm thinking about him."  
  
"I will. See you later."  
  
Jesse watched him head for the door and was horrified to see him turn and move towards the stairs to Steve's apartment. He and Amanda still hadn't told him about how things had been. 'rearranged.' They both meant to but had somehow never found the right moment. Jesse did not want Mark to walk into it cold as he had. "Mark!" He called out, rushing over to him.  
  
Mark stopped and turned round. "What Jess ?"  
  
"You er... weren't going down to Steve's apartment were you?"  
  
"Yes Why? What's wrong?"  
  
Jesse thought rapidly, he did not want to explain things to Mark, not now, not like this but he had to come up with a plausible explanation for why Mark should not go down there. "It's just that you haven't been down there since Steve went into the hospital right?"  
  
"Right," Mark confirmed. He was clearly confused by Jesse's behaviour.  
  
"Well I just don't think it's a good idea you going down there at the moment at least not until Steve's much better. There are too many raw memories down there. Why don't you let me go get whatever it is? "  
  
"Well I was just going to get some of his motorcycle magazines to take in for him to read."  
  
"I know where he keeps them," said Jesse moving as he spoke. He turned and flew down the stairs. "Wait there I won't be a minute," and, praying that Mark did not decide to follow him, he disappeared.  
  
Mark watched the retreating form and shrugged his shoulders. He hadn't really thought about it. Maybe Jesse was right. He stood and waited for Jesse's return.  
  
Jesse reappeared less than a minute later with a huge stack of magazines. He ran up the steps two at a time and was gasping for breath by the time he got to the top.  
  
"Thanks Jess," Mark said still not sure what Jesse was protecting him from. If he'd had more time to think about it or perhaps if he was less tired then he might have become suspicious of Jesse's actions. Instead he took the magazines and headed out to the car, turning his thoughts to Steve and what he would say to him.  
  
Jesse watched him leave. Nathan had watched the entire exchange. "Something you didn't want him to see down there?" He asked.  
  
"Definitely," Jesse replied watching the car pull out on to PCH. Then he turned to Nathan and explained what he didn't want Mark to find  
  
Part 25 - Tell Me What You Know  
  
It was 10.28 when Mark emerged from the elevator and headed into the psych ward. Dr. Carter was waiting for him. "Dr. Sloan," she greeted him.  
  
"Dr. Carter, good morning."  
  
"Would you mind coming through to my office please." She said and led the way.  
  
Mark had been a doctor long enough to recognise the tone and demeanour of Dr. Carter. How many times had he asked relatives to come to his office when he had to give them bad news. He felt that knot in his stomach tighten again as he followed Dr. Carter. When he had spoken to her only the previous evening at around 6.30 things had been very encouraging. Obviously, since then something had happened.  
  
"Please take a seat," Dr. Carter said sitting behind her desk.  
  
Mark dropped heavily into the chair. "What's wrong?" He asked.  
  
"What makes you think there's something wrong?"  
  
"I've been on that side of the desk, talking to relatives far too often not to recognise the signs." Mark replied wearily as he mentally steeled himself for more bad news.  
  
"Of course, I'll get straight to the point then. I'm afraid Steve's suffered another setback. He had a very bad night. As you know over the last couple of days he's been making slow but steady progress. Then last night..."  
  
"Another flashback?" Mark interrupted  
  
"No, not exactly, more like a nightmare but as real to him as any of the flashbacks that he's had. He went through the attack again but displaced it to here in his hospital room. When he woke up he was extremely distressed. It took a long time to calm him down. Even then he refused to go back to sleep or let them switch out the lights in case 'he' came back."  
  
"'He' being the man who attacked him."  
  
"Yes."  
  
Mark studied Dr. Carter's expression. "This worries you?"  
  
"Yes it does. Everything else Steve has been experiencing I've expected to see. His symptoms are not uncommon in cases like this but this sort of transference is unusual as is his paranoia about being attacked again."  
  
"But I thought victims of attacks were often left with a fear that it could happen again?"  
  
"Yes, it sometimes makes them afraid to go out or to put themselves in a vulnerable position again, but Steve is afraid in an environment which he should see as protected and safe. Frankly I'm at a loss to explain what's happening to him or what triggered this. What I do know is that it seems to have eradicated any progress we've made. You have to understand Steve is depressed and very vulnerable at the moment. He needs to feel safe if his condition is going to improve"  
  
"Can I still see him?"  
  
"Yes, in fact if you are any closer to catching the man who did this to him it may help. Are you?"  
  
"We have some very strong leads yes."  
  
"Good, tell him that. His fear seems very focused. Once his attacker is caught it will probably eliminate much of that fear." She paused thinking for a moment. " I probably don't need to tell you this but when you speak to him it's important to be as positive as possible. He thinks everyone is judging him at the moment and he's afraid that you'll be disappointed in him."  
  
Mark was shocked by the idea, "I would never.. judge. How could he think..." Mark tried to answer the implication in the doctor's words. He looked at her. "I am and always will be very proud of my son."  
  
"Yes I know that, but Steve is not thinking rationally. He sees his own reactions as unjustified and weak. We have to convince him that that is not true"  
  
"I'll do my best"  
  
"I know you will. Come on I'll take you to him." She rose and Mark followed, picking up the magazines that he'd brought in. She stopped as she reached the door and turned to him "I know things haven't been very encouraging so far but he will get better, just keep believing that."  
  
"I will."  
  
When they arrived outside Steve's room Mark prepared himself for the act that he would have to put on in front of his son. With his best smile he entered the room. Steve was sitting in one of the chairs staring at the wall. It took every ounce of self control Mark had not to react to his son's appearance. His eyes were sunk in with dark circles under them caused by lack of sleep. His skin was pale and his cheeks drawn in and he slumped rather than sat in the chair, his shoulders sagging.  
  
"Hi Steve," Mark said holding his smile  
  
Steve turned his head slowly to look at his father. "Dad," he said and he managed a half smile in return.  
  
Mark walked in depositing his magazines on the drawer unit. "I bought you something to read."  
  
"Thanks"  
  
For the first time Mark noticed that there was someone else in the room: a petite, pretty young woman sitting in the chair opposite Steve. Steve, noticing the direction of his father's gaze said "Dad this is Laura, Laura this is my dad Dr. Mark Sloan."  
  
The two shook hands "Very pleased to meet you Laura I've heard a lot about you."  
  
"She's been er. looking after me. Trying to persuade me to play chess for the last hour. She's very difficult to say no to." Laura smiled  
  
"Well don't let me stop you" Mark said turning to look at his son and then back at Laura.  
  
Laura shook her head and indicated that she was going to leave.  
  
"Don't go on my account," Mark said.  
  
Laura shook her head again and indicated again that she had to go.  
  
"I'll see you later then," Steve said. She waved goodbye to him and left. Both men watched until she had left the room.  
  
Mark went to sit opposite his son. There was an awkward silence for a couple of minutes until Steve finally spoke. "Tell me about the case."  
  
Mark was taken aback by the bluntness he had expected some casual small talk first. "The case?"  
  
"Dad, I was attacked over two weeks ago. Don't try to tell me that you, Jess and Amanda haven't been working on finding out who did it. I want to know about it."  
  
"Well we're very close to catching the man responsible."  
  
"Details, dad please. I want. I need to know as much as you can tell me." There was a certain desperation in Steve's voice.  
  
Mark considered his son's request. Dr. Carter hadn't been specific about how much Steve should know but she had seemed to think it important that Steve know something. Telling him the facts, like him not being the only victim may help. He decided to give him a full account of everything they had found out. The only thing he left out was the descriptions of the attacks themselves. That was something Steve already knew in too much detail.  
  
There were a couple of points whilst Mark was speaking when Steve looked as though he was getting agitated again but Mark noted that each time Steve used a controlled breathing exercise to calm himself.  
  
"...So if we can select the right target. Then we should be able to stop him before he strikes again." Mark finished his description of their progress.  
  
"You have to dad. You can't let him do this to anyone else." Steve said looking Mark straight in the eye. "You can't let him do this to me again." He said the fear showing in his face and his voice. "As long as he is free. he can still.." Steve couldn't finish; the end of the sentence choked off. He looked down at the ground and breathed deeply.  
  
"It's alright son. We will get him." Mark said firmly.  
  
Steve regained control of his emotions "I'm sorry I don't mean to be so pathetic. It's just I don't ever remember being this afraid."  
  
"Steve," Mark said firmly, the tone was enough to get Steve to look at him again, then more gently, "son, you have nothing to apologise for. Anyone who had been through what you have had to face this past two weeks would be afraid, would react in the same way you have. Just remember none of this is your fault. We all just want you to get better."  
  
Steve looked down again. There was a long silence. Mark watched his son. Finally Steve stood up. "I think I'll take Laura up on that game of chess," he said and moved to leave the room. At the door he turned and said. "Catch him dad." Then he turned back and left.  
  
Mark returned to the beach house. He had had another short meeting with Dr. Carter to go through what he had told Steve. Then he had gone for a walk to clear his head before finally getting in the car to drive back home. He was now more focused than ever on catching the attacker. His meeting with his son convinced him that the best way he could help Steve was to put this maniac behind bars.  
  
Jesse and Nathan were sitting out on the deck. The table was strewn with files, this time about the possible victims. As Mark joined them, both abandoned their tasks to ask about Steve. Mark filled them in and then all three of them returned to looking for the most likely of the potential victims. They were still hard at work when Amanda arrived at 3pm.  
  
"I managed to isolate a small sample of an organic compound which could be from the aftershave," she said once she had settled in. "I've analysed the chemical components, with any luck we'll find a match from the FBI database. I'm waiting for them to get back to me. I also picked this up." She placed a file on the table. "It's the psychological profile of our attacker that you organised Mark."  
  
"Thanks," Mark picked up the file, he had called in a favour from an old friend who just happened to be a top criminal profiler. He adjusted his glasses and began reading from the summary at the front of the file. "The attacker is most probably male, Caucasian age 25-35, highly intelligent with poor or very poor social skills. This individual is a sociopath who feels no guilt or remorse for the treatment of his victims. He needs to feel in total control and enjoys having power over others. Most likely from a secure family background, socio economic grouping A or A/B."  
  
"So how does that help us?" Asked Jesse. "We can hardly check every rich intelligent loner in the city."  
  
"No," said Amanda, "but it may help give us some insight into how he's likely to behave."  
  
Mark continued reading. "Given the increasing level of violence with each of the attacks. The attacker is likely to become increasingly bold, believing that he cannot be caught. Now that he has killed any future victims are unlikely to survive the attacks. In fact, the level of violence involved is likely to continue to escalate."  
  
"Another reason to get this guy as quickly as possible. As if we didn't have enough." Amanda stated grimly.  
  
At 8.35 p.m. Jesse pulled his car into the car park across town. He and Amanda got out and checked once again the picture of the man they were here to protect, Daniel Simms. Between them they had decided that he was the most likely to be attacked. All four potential victims were being watched but Nathan had decided to take the protection duty on Daniel himself. Mark, Jesse and Amanda had all insisted on being involved and since Nathan's officers were spread fairly thinly he had agreed. He had sounded very much like Steve when he had reminded them that they were there as observers only, and if they spotted anything they were to alert him or Officer Lucy Bradley who was there with him, and they were most definitely not to take any action themselves.  
  
None of the potential victims had been warned. This was a risky strategy that Nathan had had to discuss with his Chief, but if the victims behaved differently they could alert the attacker to the fact that they were on to him and they would lose the only real lead they had to catching the man.  
  
Jesse and Amanda entered the bar and found themselves a table. Mark was already sitting at the bar and Nathan and Lucy hadn't arrived yet. They were following Daniel from his apartment in case he was attacked before he made it to the bar.  
  
Ryan entered through the fire exit at the back of the bar. He had parked the car in the back alley much closer than on his previous attacks, since he did not have his assistant this time. It was 8.58 he expected his victim to arrive in the next few minutes. He stood at the back by the corridor to the restrooms and surveyed the room just to check that Daniel wasn't there already.  
  
He spotted Mark first. Dr. Sloan? What on earth was he doing here? As far as Ryan was aware, Mark lived out by the beach, miles away from here.  
  
Then he spotted Dr. Travis and Dr. Bentley and he knew that something had gone wrong. By the time Daniel Simms had arrived closely followed by the police detective he had seen at the hospital and some young woman he didn't know, probably another police officer, Ryan knew that somehow they had worked out how he selected his victims. His mind went into overdrive as he decided what he was going to do now that his plans had been ruined.  
  
"What do you mean you need to go to the bathroom?" Amanda said the smile on her face incongruous with the tone of her voice as she pretended to be having a good time. "Our target has only just arrived and we've only been here half an hour."  
  
"I know," Jesse grinned back sheepishly. "Must be nerves. Look I'll go and be back in a minute you won't even miss me."  
  
Before Ryan had chance to make any decisions he saw Jesse get up and head in his direction. He looked round. There wasn't time to make it out of the exit without being spotted and he didn't have a plausible reason for being in this part of town. If he was spotted here, like this, then it would not take long for Dr. Sloan to put things together. Ryan had heard of his reputation. He knew he had no choice. He ducked back into the shadows.  
  
Jesse walked into the corridor heading for the restrooms. He caught a slight movement out of the corner of his eye and then his world exploded into sparks as the blow impacted the side of his head. Everything went black and Jesse fell forwards.  
  
Ryan caught him and lowered him to the ground to minimise the noise. He stood up and looked down at the prone form of the young doctor in front of him. What now? 


	10. 

Part 26 Ruined plans? Make New Ones.  
  
Steve was tired, not just tired, weary. He felt like this a lot these days, even when he was getting some sleep, however disturbed. Since he had had only about two hours sleep the previous night his general tiredness was giving way to exhaustion. Still, he did not want to go to bed, did not want to even try to sleep. At least whilst he was awake he felt that he had some semblance of control. The mere thought of going to sleep to wake into another nightmare like the one the previous night nearly sent him spiralling back into panic every time he considered it. He had to admit, however, that eventually something would have to be done. For now he would do everything he could to keep himself awake how ever he felt. He even refused to take the sleeping pills that he had been happily using the last few nights.  
  
Dr. Carter had been reluctant to force Steve to allow them to sedate him. She knew it may become necessary but recognised the importance for Steve that he maintain some kind of control at the moment. Another sleepless night would not help but if he did wake to another attack, having been forced to sleep, that could be even more damaging. Just in case there were further problems she left instructions that she be paged to come back in. She still did not know what to make of Steve's latest setback.  
  
Steve had spent much of the day talking or at least being encouraged to talk. He didn't want to talk any more. He didn't want to have to think or feel or deal with anything. His thoughts were never better than jumbled. The only time he felt any sort of relief was when he was with Laura. Maybe it was because she didn't expect anything from him other than his company or possibly that he just felt that he was in some way helping her. He didn't know but he was sure of one thing; when she was around he could relax.  
  
He knew that the therapy sessions and group sessions were there to help him but that put pressure on him to perform, to do all that he could to get better. Even in his emotional state Steve could not shake the compulsion to live up to other people's expectations of him. So he felt the pressure to keep up his side of the bargain and participate. With Laura there was no such pressure.  
  
They played board games until long after everyone else had gone back to their rooms. Dr. Carter had seen the positive effect that the two were having on each other and had left instructions that they be allowed to associate as much as possible. Laura, having seen the state Steve had been in earlier had asked for and received permission to sit with Steve until he had settled for the night. She did her best in her own way to persuade him to try to sleep. When that failed she settled for getting him to lie back in bed and at least relax.. She sat in the chair by his bed and watched him, hoping that he would lose his fight and fall asleep.  
  
Ryan was becoming increasingly incensed by the events of the evening. He looked down once again at the young doctor lying at his feet. How dare they interfere with his plans like this. A bunch of amateurs who dabbled in crime and a police detective still wet behind the ears and probably with an IQ to match his age if Ryan's experience of most of the police were anything to go by. How dare they! Ryan aimed a viscous kick into Jesse's ribs as he vented his frustration on the prone form.  
  
Despite his unconscious state Jesse emitted a groan and instinctively curled over to protect the site of the pain but the movement was not pronounced enough to provide any real protection. Ryan noted the feeble attempt and kicked him again in the same spot. How dare they! He repeated to himself for a third time. Jesse emitted another groan and curled up more. The sound was enough to alert Ryan to the fact that if he carried on someone would come to see what was happening. He took a deep breath. This was no time to lose his composure and control. He had to decide what to do next.  
  
For a moment he considered taking Jesse to replace his intended victim. It would serve the doctor right for interfering and he could definitely have some fun with him!  
  
Then an evil grin spread across his face. No there was something that needed to be done anyway and the fact that Dr. Mark Sloan had interfered with his plans made the timing all the more perfect. It gave him the perfect excuse for getting rid of Steve Sloan with no one suspecting that it had anything to do with him being a patient at community general. He would make certain that Dr. Sloan knew just why his son had met his demise on this particular evening. Everyone would believe that it was just revenge for having his plans spoilt that had led to Steve's death and he could have some fun in the process. Up to now Ryan had been devising a tragic accident for Steve to avoid too many questions being asked but now it was perfect. Steve could be killed however he wanted and Mark's interference in the case would be blamed.  
  
Ryan had a feeling close to elation as he realised how faultlessly this could all play out. He took one last look at Jesse and smiled to himself. Then he slipped out of the fire exit and back to his car. He had errands to run and plans to make.  
  
Steve had been lying on his bed staring at the ceiling for over an hour. He could not, would not, allow himself to sleep. He looked over at the chair where Laura sat patiently and watched him.  
  
"Are you going to sit there all night?" He asked concerned.  
  
Laura shook her head, no and mimed that she was just waiting for Steve to go to sleep.  
  
Steve sighed "and if I don't go to sleep?"  
  
She shrugged and pointed at the chair.  
  
"Then you'll stay there all night?" Steve said.  
  
She smiled and nodded.  
  
Steve smiled back. "You are incorrigible"  
  
She nodded again.  
  
Steve lay back on the bed again and this time allowed himself to close his eyes. Reassured by Laura's presence.  
  
Amanda looked at her watch again. Jesse had been gone for an awful long time and she was beginning to get concerned. She had just decided that she was going to have to get Mark to go and look for him when there was a squeal and a commotion at the back of the room over by the corridor to the restrooms. A young woman who had been heading for the bathroom came back into the bar. "Please somebody get help," she yelled. "There's been some sort of accident."  
  
Amanda was out of her chair and moving before the woman had got the first word out. "It's OK I'm a doctor," she said calmly. "Tell me what's happened."  
  
By now Amanda had reached the woman who garbled her reply. "I don't know this guy's just lying there, not moving. He looks hurt and.." She did not get a chance to finish  
  
"Jesse!" Amanda interrupted as she rounded the corner to see her friend lying curled and unconscious on the floor. She rushed to his side where she was joined by Mark who had followed close behind her.  
  
He too gasped as he saw his young protégé lying on the floor. "Oh God Jesse." He muttered.  
  
Amanda felt for a pulse and checked that Jesse was breathing. She breathed a sigh of relief when she realised that he was at least alive. She began checking for injuries.  
  
Nathan joined them. It had taken him a little longer as he had had to give instructions to Lucy just in case this was some sort of diversion. Someone had to keep a watch on Daniel. "Jesse," Nathan said "Is he alright?"  
  
"He's been hit on the head," said Amanda. "Beyond that I can't tell. We need to get him to somewhere with more light so I can examine him properly."  
  
"There's the manager's office," said one of the waiters who had joined them in the now very overcrowded narrow corridor.  
  
"Could you help us get him in there?" Asked Mark.  
  
The waiter nodded and he, Mark and Nathan gently carried Jesse through to a small office off the side of the bar, where they laid him on an old couch.  
  
"I'll go and get Jesse's medical bag, I think he has it in his car." Amanda said and disappeared.  
  
Nathan looked down at Jesse. "Oh God this is all my fault. Is he going to be alright?"  
  
Mark was examining Jesse again now that they had light to see by. He looked closely at the wound on the side of Jesse's head. "Well he's probably got a mild concussion but I think he should be alright, yes."  
  
"Thank God. You look after him. I'm calling this whole thing off." And with that he left the room.  
  
Mark was too busy concentrating on caring for Jesse to notice the self recrimination in Nathan's words.  
  
"Do you want me to call the police? An Ambulance?" The waiter asked.  
  
Mark was a little surprised he had forgotten that the waiter was still in the room. He smiled at the question. "Not at the moment. The man who just left is a police detective and myself and the young woman who went to the car are both doctors at community general hospital. I think we're OK for now."  
  
The waiter was a little nonplussed at the information. "I see.well .. is there anything else I can do to help?"  
  
"If you could get an ice pack"  
  
"Sure," and the waiter left the room.  
  
This time Mark was left alone with Jesse who began to show signs of stirring.  
  
"Jesse, Jesse can you hear me?" Mark asked.  
  
As Jesse returned to consciousness he experienced two unpleasant sensations simultaneously, nausea and pain. He heard Mark's voice at first as though it was a long way away and then gradually closer, until he realised that Mark was right next to him. He opened his eyes and instantly regretted it as both the pain and the nausea increased. He quickly closed them again and groaned.  
  
"It's OK Jess," Mark said. "Just take your time."  
  
Jesse swallowed down the nausea and tried again to open his eyes, more slowly this time. It wasn't quite so bad although there was another stab of pain. He managed to keep his eyes open. "Where? What happened?" He asked confused.  
  
"It's alright Jess," said Mark gently. "You took quite a blow to the head. You've probably got a mild concussion. Do you remember anything about what happened?"  
  
Jesse closed his eyes and tried to think. It took a couple of minutes. Mark waited patiently. "We're at a bar right? We came to protect someone?"  
  
"Yes a man called Daniel Simms," Mark confirmed.  
  
Jesse concentrated again. "I was sitting at a table with Amanda. I got up to go to the bathroom and then.." Jesse paused. "And then I woke up here," he said.  
  
"You don't remember anything about getting hit?"  
  
"No," Jesse said dejectedly.  
  
"Never mind. It was unlikely that you would. As I said it's quite a nasty blow you took."  
  
Amanda returned with the medical bag and an ice pack that the waiter had given her. "Come on let's check you out properly." She said. "Do you think you can sit up."  
  
"If you give me a hand," Jesse said, "But I'd arm myself with a bucket if I were you, just in case." He smiled.  
  
Amanda smiled back glad that Jesse was well enough to joke. She picked up a waste paper basket. "Consider me suitably armed," she said moving to his side. She and Mark tried to help Jesse to a sitting position as gently as they could. They did not get very far before Jesse cried out in pain and clutched his side. Mark and Amanda exchanged worried glances. There was obviously another injury besides the blow to the head. Jesse took several deep breaths to control the pain, although even breathing, he realised, hurt. When he was ready to continue he nodded and, favouring the injured side, he managed to get to a sitting position.  
  
"We're going to have to get your shirt off to look at your ribs," Amanda said, handing him the ice pack to put on his head.  
  
Jesse took the ice pack gratefully and gingerly placed it over the growing lump on his scalp. "Why? Do you think there may be something wrong?" He asked jokingly.  
  
Amanda wasn't sure whose spirits he was trying to raise; theirs or his own. "Just humour us alright." She replied.  
  
Jesse winced as he raised his arm and Amanda gently unbuttoned and pulled back his shirt. Both she and Mark let out an involuntary gasp at the already ugly purple bruise that covered his left side.  
  
"That good huh?" Said Jesse trying to look down at the injury for himself. It was a mistake. The sudden movement sent a stabbing pain through the side of his head and a wave of dizziness and nausea claimed him. Amanda recognised the signs and positioned the waste paper basket just in time. With each retch a new wave of intense pain swept up from his injured side as the damaged muscle tissue was forced to convulse.  
  
Mark and Amanda could do nothing except watch and wait for the spasms to subside. When they finally stopped Jesse dropped back exhausted, breathing as deeply as he dared as he attempted to control the pain. Nathan re- entered just as Jesse collapsed back.  
  
"I'm going to give you something for the pain but I can't give you anything too strong because of the concussion," Amanda said. Jesse nodded weakly.  
  
Mark picked up the ice pack from where Jesse had dropped it and gently placed it back on his head. "And then we need to get you to the hospital," he said.  
  
"No, We've got a job to do here," Jesse protested doing his best to sit straight on the chair.  
  
"Not any more," said Nathan. "I've called this observation off. Lucy is talking to Daniel Simms right now to fill him in on what we've been doing and then she's going to wait with him until some backup arrives. They'll escort him home. I'm not risking anyone else getting hurt."  
  
"But we don't even know if the attack on me had anything to do with the case."  
  
"Doesn't matter. Our ability to remain inconspicuous disappeared the moment you were hit." Nathan said flatly, "and the chances are that you got hit because of the case Jess. It's too much of a coincidence otherwise. I should never have got you involved." The self recrimination was once again clear. This time Mark picked up on it.  
  
"You wouldn't have been able to keep us out of it," Mark said. "Especially not after my talk with Steve earlier."  
  
"We're persistent meddlers you know." Amanda tried to lighten Nathan's obviously heavy mood. The young detective was clearly blaming himself for Jesse's injuries.  
  
"Yeah and I'm OK really" Jesse added, "I've got a hard head you know."  
  
"You're all very kind but it's my case, my responsibility. I'm sorry."  
  
Mark sighed, God this young man reminded him of Steve, did they teach this attitude at the police academy or something. "Before we start throwing blame about. Lets get Jess to the hospital and then try to figure out exactly what happened and why."  
  
"I agree," Jesse said. The others were surprised that he was giving in to going to the hospital so easily until he added, "but I think we need to figure out exactly what happened before we leave here. There may be things that we need to look at." He paused before resolutely stating. "I'm not going to the hospital and being left out of this whilst you send me for X- rays and scans. I need to be here to help you figure out what happened. My injuries will keep. They are not life threatening. So we stay here till we figure out what happened."  
  
Mark and Amanda wanted to argue but as a skilled ER doctor there was no one better to assess the clinical priorities of a patient than Jesse. The concussion was worrying but there were no signs that it was anything other than mild and he knew for a fact that they were less than five minutes from the ER at Memorial Hospital if there was a problem. One look at the stubborn expression on Jesse's face and they both knew that further discussion was pointless. Jesse would go to hospital once they had figured out what had happened and not before. So the best thing to do was to concentrate on working that out.  
  
Jesse looked from Mark to Amanda and knew that he had won his argument for the moment. He was relieved, despite his strong words he felt awful. It was difficult to say which of his symptoms was worse, the pain, nausea or dizziness. He did know that if they hadn't accepted his reasoning he wouldn't have had the strength to put up much of a fight.  
  
"OK," said Mark "let's start with figuring out why you were attacked. If we assume that it wasn't anything to do with the case for the time being. What could it be?"  
  
"A mugging?" Amanda suggested.  
  
"Was anything taken?" Nathan asked.  
  
Jesse put his hand into his pocket and pulled out his wallet and a handful of lose change. He fumbled to open the wallet with one hand, the other was holding the ice pack.  
  
Amanda moved to help him. Gratefully Jesse handed her the wallet so she could check it for him. She counted the bills. "$45," she said and then pulled out Jesse's driving licence, hospital Id card, credit card and ATM card.  
  
Jesse examined the displayed contents. "Nothing missing," he confirmed, "and I didn't have anything else of value on me. My cell phone was in my jacket pocket and I left that at the table with Amanda."  
  
Mark frowned. "So it wasn't a mugging."  
  
"Unless he was disturbed," Amanda suggested, "before he could take anything."  
  
"No, I don't think so. I had a word with the young woman who found him. She said that there was no one else anywhere around and the exits were clearly visible to her. If she had disturbed someone she would have seen them leaving." Nathan said. "I'm inclined to agree with Mark, not a mugging."  
  
Jesse was going to nod his agreement but then thought better of it. He spoke instead, "And I don't think I have any enemies in this part of town. None that I know of anyway."  
  
"What no jealous husbands or disgruntled patients?" Amanda couldn't help teasing.  
  
Jesse smiled. "Maybe if we were closer to home.. But no I can't think of anyone who'd have a reason to want to hit me."  
  
"Which leads us to conclude that either this was a motiveless random act of violence." Mark said.  
  
Nathan interrupted, "which is extremely unlikely. Motiveless attacks are rare,"  
  
"Or," Mark continued, "This is connected to the case which brought us here and if that is true it leaves us with more unanswered questions."  
  
"Like how did the attacker know that Jesse was here investigating the case." Amanda suggested.  
  
Mark nodded. "And why hit Jesse? We have no idea what this man looks like. If he walked past us on the street we wouldn't be able to identify him. It doesn't make sense."  
  
Everyone sat quietly for a few minutes considering the questions. Finally Jesse broke the silence. "And my head hurt before I started thinking about this," he said.  
  
Ryan left his flat carrying his medical bag. It did not, however, contain the usual selection of drugs, dressings and instruments that one would expect to find. It did contain a couple of hypodermic syringes which Ryan had carefully prepared, but these were not for the healing of the sick. It also contained a selection of electronic equipment necessary for bypassing the hospital security systems without being spotted, as well as one or two of Ryan's other 'toys'.  
  
Ryan had changed his clothing and spent a short time refining his plans. Most of the groundwork for what he was about to do he had prepared earlier, knowing that he may have to break into the psych ward unnoticed so he could arrange Steve's little 'accident.' The fact that he was now going to make his being there a little more obvious and, he couldn't help but think, a little more enjoyable, required only slight changes to his strategy.  
  
One of these little changes involved typing the note for Mark to find after the event. He had enjoyed writing that, savouring the thought of the emotional pain it would cause the good doctor when he found it. It almost made up for having his plans ruined.  
  
Ryan got into his car and set off on the five minute journey to the hospital.  
  
Laura stood up as quietly as she could and moved over to the bed. Steve's breathing had been slow and even for twenty minutes now and his eyes were closed. She smiled down at him. It looked like he was finally asleep. For the first time that day he looked truly calm. Laura felt better about the fact that she would soon have to go back to her room. The nurses had given her a lot of leeway allowing her to stay with him so long but she was still a patient herself and they had to consider her well-being as well as Steve's.  
  
Laura decided that before she went she needed to check that he was really sleeping. She placed her hand gently on his cheek for a moment feeling the warmth of his skin and then she brushed the hair from his forehead. Steve did not stir. She pulled her hand away and watched him a few minutes longer.  
  
The nurse entered to do her half hourly check. She indicated that it was time for Laura to leave. Satisfied that he would be alright, Laura nodded and went with the nurse to return to her room. Leaving Steve alone and sleeping peacefully. 


	11. 

Part 27 The Puzzle is Complete.  
  
Mark was frustrated. He was fairly sure that they had enough information to put this together but the pieces just weren't slotting into place. After several minutes spent thinking, the discussion started again.  
  
"Maybe this guy's been keeping an eye on the police investigation If he found out that Nathan was investigating the case he may have recognised him when he came in after Daniel. That would have alerted him to the fact that there was something wrong," suggested Amanda.  
  
"It's possible I suppose but it would have been difficult for him." Nathan replied. "The department's done its best to keep a lid on the whole thing so that the media don't get a hold of it. You know what a circus they would turn it into. Any hint of a story about a serial killer and they're braying for blood. It's hard enough for the victims without the risk of harassment from the press."  
  
Mark shuddered at the thought. " Even if it came out surely the victims anonymity would be protected."  
  
"Well we'd do our best but you know how they get. If the press knew we were tracking a potential serial killer we wouldn't be able to make a move. So far we've got away with claiming that we are a robbery task force set up to deal with violent muggings"  
  
"Anyway, even if he was alerted that we were on to him by Nathan's presence," Mark reasoned. "It seems unlikely that he would know about Jesse. Unless he's been following Nathan about."  
  
"Unless he was keeping an eye on Stacey Cliff's place after he torched it. Nathan and I went there together," Jesse said. "He could have seen us there and figured that I was some sort of cop too. It explains how he could have recognised me."  
  
That hypothesis seemed reasonable to everyone. Nathan frowned as the implications of the fact that they were possibly being watched by the killer sank in. The whole investigation could be compromised. "If it's true that he is watching us then it's going to make him even more difficult to catch. Not that we have any firm leads now anyway," he said unable to disguise the dejected tone in his voice.  
  
Everyone sat in silence again for a few moments but Mark was still puzzled by something. This theory did not explain everything. "But it still doesn't explain why he hit you Jesse," he looked over at his friend. "Even if he knows what you look like, there's no way you could have identified him. So why risk drawing attention to himself by hitting you? Especially where he hit you, any number of people could have been entering or leaving the restrooms."  
  
"Maybe he was just frustrated at not being able to get to his intended target." Amanda suggested.  
  
"Yes, very frustrated," Jesse put his hands to his injured ribs, everyone understood the gesture.  
  
"No," said Mark, not satisfied that that was enough. His instincts told him there was more to it. "There has to be a better reason. By hitting Jesse he made it obvious that he had been here and allowed us to confirm our suspicions about how his intended victims were selected. It would have made far more sense for him to slip away quietly once he realised that he wouldn't be able to reach his target."  
  
"Unless Jesse saw something that the killer was doing that would have given him away" Amanda said.  
  
"How about it Jesse? Do you remember anything more? Anything at all that would explain why you were hit?" Mark asked.  
  
Jesse closed his eyes and rested his head back on the couch. He tried hard to concentrate as the others watched and waited patiently. He walked himself through the events he could remember; entering the bar, waiting for Daniel Simms to arrive and then telling Amanda that he needed to go to the men's room shortly after he did, her incredulous response, getting up to head to the back of the room and then. . . .nothing. Nothing until he had woken on the couch. He opened his eyes and looked at the expectant faces. "No, sorry," he said. "It's just a blank after I left the table until I woke up here." He paused. "Maybe if I went back into the bar and walked through it I might remember something."  
  
"Are you sure you feel up to it?" asked Mark concerned.  
  
"Well sitting here isn't getting us anywhere is it?" Jesse's frustration showed in his voice.  
  
"But maybe you should wait until you're feeling a little stronger." Amanda added her concern to Mark's. Jesse really should be resting as much as possible.  
  
"No," Jesse said with determination. "If there is something to find or remember it may give us a clue to our killer's identity. We can't afford to let any trails run cold. If we wait for me to feel better we may let something vital slip by." He looked at the concerned expressions on his friend's faces and added more softly. "Look I promise that I'll take it easy. You're going to have to help me anyway. I don't think I'll be too steady on my feet."  
  
"OK then, if you're sure" Mark stood up and positioned himself next to Jesse. "Take it easy." He took hold of Jesse's hand with one of his. The other he placed around his back and under his other arm. He provided support whilst Jesse pulled himself to a standing position.  
  
Jesse stood up awkwardly. Without Mark's support it is doubtful that he would have made it at all. He waited until the room steadied itself and his knees got used to the idea of supporting his weight before he stopped leaning on Mark. The painkillers Amanda had given him had dulled the pain from his side and his headache was a little easier to tolerate. "I'm OK," he said, pushing himself off Mark and attempting to take a step.  
  
"Yeah sure you are," Mark confirmed sarcastically, grabbing Jesse as he stumbled, before he had a chance to fall. "If you're going to go through with this then you have to accept help"  
  
"Just testing." Jesse replied, grateful for the supporting hand Mark placed under his shoulder.  
  
"Now take it slowly." Mark helped guide him toward the door which Nathan held open for them. Amanda followed behind, positioning herself to catch Jesse if he should stumble again.  
  
Ryan parked his car on the street about a block from the hospital. All of the hospital car parks were monitored by CCTV and he had no legitimate business to cover his presence there, best not to take any chances. He knew how to slip in past the other hospital security cameras, which were positioned on the entrances.  
  
Once inside he made his way to an office that he knew was currently vacant. The previous occupant had moved to a hospital in Chicago and their replacement would not arrive for another week. He sat down at the computer. This gave him full access to all of the hospital's computer systems including the security and fire controls. Ryan set about breaking into the system. He could have done it expertly without leaving a trace of his presence. In fact before tonight that had been his intention. No one would ever had known that he had arranged Steve's 'accident' but now he left a clear trail. Well, clear enough for any expert to follow. He made it look like he was less familiar with the system than he actually was. He had to convince people that he had broken into the hospital with as little planning as possible so that they did not suspect his connection to Community General.  
  
As Jesse walked back out into the bar, Mark at his side supporting him, everyone turned to look at him. Not that there were many people left. The young woman who had found Jesse was sitting with her friend, drinking brandy to steady her nerves. She had been asked to stay and give a statement to police. The barman and the waiter who had helped out were idly polishing glasses and chatting at the end of the bar. Lucy still sat talking to a slightly shocked looking Daniel Simms and there was a lone man in the corner obviously already quite inebriated who was completely oblivious to the events of the last half hour. Everyone else had left. Seeing Jesse being carried unconscious across the room had ruined the atmosphere for the rest of the bar's clientele and they had decided to spend their evening elsewhere. The fact that Nathan had asked for witnesses and taken everybody's name and address before taping off the corridor to the restrooms as a crime scene, had not helped to encourage anyone to stay. Even new customers entering had sensed that there was something not right and had quickly turned and left.  
  
Jesse made his way first to the table where he and Amanda had been sitting . The more he walked, as long as he didn't make any sudden movements, the more steady he felt and the less he had to rely on Mark. As they approached the table, the young woman who had found him got up and moved over to talk to him.  
  
"Thank God you're alright."  
  
Jesse looked slightly bewildered unable to understand the stranger's concern. He was fairly certain that he had never met this young woman before. Her he would have remembered. "I'm sorry, Do I know you?"  
  
"I'm sorry the name's Sarah James. I'm the one who found you. You were lying on the floor over there." She pointed at the corridor "I thought you were. . . " She couldn't finish the sentence. There was an awkward pause for a moment and then she looked him directly in the eye and gave him her most beaming smile. "I'm glad to see that you're alright. You are alright ?" She asked.  
  
"Yeah I'm fine," Jesse said grinning back at her. He didn't feel fine but he was not going to let this beautiful young woman know that. Her eyes sparkled as she looked at him. Was it his imagination or was she flirting with him?  
  
"Well I'm really glad to hear it. I mean I know I don't know you but I was still worried about you." She smiled even more warmly at him. "It's not every day you find a cute guy lying on the floor."  
  
He blushed slightly "Oh I'm sure you've got plenty of men throwing themselves at your feet," Jesse replied. Yes, she was definitely flirting. She laughed at his feeble line with far more enjoyment than it deserved.  
  
Mark and Amanda exchanged long suffering glances. Why did Jesse always have this effect on young women. Even in the middle of a murder case and suffering from a concussion! Both young people seemed to have forgotten that there was anyone else there. Mark coughed.  
  
Jesse snapped his mind back to the current situation. "I'm sorry," he said, "These are my friends. Dr. Mark Sloan, Dr. Amanda Bentley and Detective Nathan Turner and I'm Jesse Travis."  
  
Sarah smiled at them, "Yes, we've already met." She looked back at Jesse. "You don't remember. I believe you were unconscious at the time."  
  
"Oh, yes right," Jesse was a little embarrassed but it did serve to remind him that he had far more pressing things to do than stand and make smalltalk. No matter how pleasant the company might be. "Thanks for helping me," He said by way of a dismissal, "I hope we'll get to meet again sometime"  
  
Sarah was disappointed but took the hint. "Me too." She said and with a last bright smile made her way back to her table.  
  
Jesse quickly turned his mind back to the task in hand. "OK so I got up and headed over to the back of the room." He moved off towards the restrooms Mark still providing a steadying presence by his side although Jesse was walking on his own.  
  
Amanda and Nathan followed.  
  
Jesse walked slowly round the corner into the corridor. Now that he was repeating his actions it was coming back to him. He had barely made it round the corner and out of site of the rest of the room. That was when he had noticed the movement out of the corner of his eye. He now turned his head round to look in the direction of where the blow must have come from. There was a narrow alcove recessed into the wall. He turned and pointed at it. "He was hiding in there," he said, looking at the others. "That's why I didn't see him until I came around the corner. He was waiting for me and hit me as soon as I passed him." Jesse continued as the memory returned.  
  
Nathan went to stand in the alcove. It wouldn't hide your presence if someone was looking for you, but it shielded you from the view of anyone entering the corridor unless they turned to look. Someone standing very still in this position could easily go unnoticed.  
  
"Well there goes our theory about Jesse seeing something he shouldn't have," Amanda said. "Looks like you were well and truly ambushed." She looked across at Jesse. "So there still has to be another reason why he felt the need to attack you"  
  
Jesse had closed his eyes. He was concentrating. There was something else important that he was sure he had remembered momentarily and then it had gone. What was it?  
  
Amanda and Mark saw Jesse close his eyes and were immediately concerned. Mark moved over ready to support him again. "Jesse are you alright?" He asked  
  
Jesse opened his eyes and looked at the concerned expressions on everyone's faces. "Yes, fine, I was just trying to remember something. There was something else that I noticed at the time. I just can't remember what it was." He leant back against the wall partly in frustration, partly because standing was making him feel nauseous again. Whatever it was he knew it was important.  
  
Ryan finished what he was doing on the computer. He then went to the filing cabinets and broke them open. He knew what he was looking for but he rifled through several of the cabinets anyway. He then pulled out the manuals on the computer system and information an accessing patients records. The things he had just done, and left the files on the desk by the computer. He smiled at his own attention to detail.  
  
He moved over to the door and opened it a crack, checking that there was no one on the corridor, he slipped out of the office. He made his way first to one of the staff locker rooms where he changed into a male nurses outfit. At night this would be far less conspicuous around the hospital than if he dressed as a doctor. There were more nurses around so he was less likely to be noticed. Before he had left his flat he had used wax to darken his hair colour and change it's style. Make-up had darkened his complexion. He looked in the mirror, satisfied that no one would recognise him he moved back out into the corridor. He made his way to the emergency stairs and headed up to the psych ward. Time to go play.  
  
Amanda stood and watched Jesse. She was worried about him, his complexion was very pale and she knew that despite the painkillers she had given him, he was still hurting. He should be lying in a hospital bed sleeping, not standing in the corridor at the back of a bar.  
  
Mark and Nathan were checking the corridor again. "In order to watch the bar our attacker would have to be standing here." Nathan said positioning himself at the corner. "He must have stood here watching until he saw Jesse approach."  
  
Mark studied the angles. He went into the bar and retraced Jesse's walk from the table to where Nathan was standing. As he got closer Nathan ducked back into the shadowy alcove. Mark realised as he approached that in order not to be seen by Jesse, the attacker had no choice but to hide there. The fire exit doors on the opposite side of the corridor were clearly visible at this angle. If Nathan had tried to move through them Mark would have seen him. The same would have been true for Jesse and the man who hit him. Once the attacker saw Jesse approaching his only option had been to hide in the alcove or try to make it into one of the restrooms. That partly explained why Jesse had been attacked, but why did the attacker have to avoid being seen? What made him think that Jesse would recognise him? Mark shook his head and sighed. If only he wasn't so emotionally involved. With a clear head he was sure he could work this out. At the moment he was weighed down with worry for Steve and now for Jesse too.  
  
Steve opened his eyes. It took him only a moment to orient himself. He had been asleep. How had that happened? He had tried so hard to stay awake but. . . He thought a little more, he must have been exhausted. He looked around the room. No Laura, she must have gone back to her room. Good, she needed her rest too. He smiled at the thought of her sitting there waiting for him to go to sleep. She had got her way then. It seemed like she always did since he found it virtually impossible to say no to her.  
  
Jesse opened his eyes and pushed himself up off the wall in excitement as the elusive memory slipped into his consciousness. "That's it," He said and then regretted the sudden movement as he was forced to grab hold of the wall again to keep from toppling over as a wave of dizziness hit him.  
  
Amanda was there holding him giving him extra support. "Jesse, you've been told to take it easy," she reprimanded.  
  
"Yeah sorry," Jesse took several deep breaths and waited for the world to stop spinning. He forced himself to remain calm as he attempted to tell the others what he had remembered. "I've remembered what it was I noticed," he said. That got everyone's attention. "You remember my telephone conversation with Paul Dunn?" Everyone nodded. "Well the only thing he said he remembered was a smell; cheap aftershave right?" More nods. "Well that's it. I know exactly what he means. As I came around the corner, just before I got hit, I remember there was an almost overpowering smell of aftershave. As though someone had used an entire bottle in one go."  
  
"If there was any doubt that you was hit by our killer. I think you just eliminated it. It would be too much of a coincidence not to be him." Nathan said.  
  
Mark remained silent. Jesse's information had set him thinking. The pieces were at last slotting into place. He knew he was frustratingly close as though he should know who the killer was or at least how to find him.  
  
Steve had lay back on his pillow. The fact that he had woken up to a normal, safe situation and not from another nightmare had reassured him slightly. He lay with his eyes closed. Maybe it would be alright to sleep after all. He heard a noise by the door. Steve felt his whole body tense as he looked over to see what it was. Someone entered the room. Just one of the nurses coming to do their half hourly checks. He relaxed again and closed his eyes.  
  
"In fact," Jesse was saying, "The smell of the stuff is so strong that you can still catch a faint odour from it even now. I'm sure that's what brought the memory back."  
  
Mark was so deep in thought that Jesse's words did not penetrate the first time so he asked Jesse to repeat what he had said.  
  
"I said you can still smell a faint odour from the aftershave. I'm sure that's what brought the memory back." Jesse repeated.  
  
Mark sniffed the air. There was a faint odour of something not particularly pleasant, well not to Mark's taste anyway, but he did recognise it. He had smelt it somewhere before. Someone he knew wore it. Jesse's last few words echoed in his mind 'I'm sure that's what brought the memory back. . . brought the memory back." That was it, realisation dawned, suddenly the last piece slotted into place. Mark gasped. A mixture of deduction and instinct meant that he now knew without a shadow of a doubt who the killer was.  
  
The odious aftershave so strong everyone remembered it, the timing of Steve's first flashback, the psychological profile, the medical knowledge that the attacker had, the need to attack Jesse because if he didn't he would be recognised. None of these alone was enough to narrow down the suspects but collectively they all pointed to one man.  
  
Ryan Sharpe moved quietly into the hospital room and walked over to the bed. He took out the hypodermic and checked it before inserting it quickly and quietly into the upper arm of the still figure on the bed. He pressed home the plunger delivering the full dose of the drug cocktail that it held. Then he stepped back and waited for it to take effect.  
  
Mark had been momentarily lost in thought and hadn't realised that he had made a sound much less gasped. He looked around realising that Nathan, Amanda and Jesse were all watching him expectantly. "I know who the killer is." He stated. He was about to continue when he realised that Jesse was leaning increasingly heavily on the wall, his skin was also visibly paling. He needed at least to sit down. "Come on let's go and sit down and I'll explain."  
  
The others were disappointed at having to wait but Amanda and Nathan could at least see the wisdom in Mark's words. They too could see what Jesse looked like. Mark took Jesse's arm and they all went to sit in the nearest booth. Jesse, although he wouldn't admit it was grateful and leaned back on the headrest.  
  
"Who is it then and how do you know?" Asked Nathan impatiently. He wanted to believe that Mark had solved the case, but didn't have the experience of the others, so remained a little skeptical. Jesse and Amanda knew that whatever Mark was about to say would lead them directly to the killer.  
  
"The reason the killer hit Jesse and knocked him out rather than be seen by him is because Jesse would have recognised him." Mark stated.  
  
"How? Why?" Asked Jesse confused. "None of us know what he looks like."  
  
"Because you know him." Mark replied.  
  
Jesse still looked confused. "But how would I know him? Apart from the victims no one has seenâE¦"  
  
"No," Mark interrupted. "Not because you know he's the killer but because you know who he is." Mark allowed a little time for his words to sink in. "You would have recognised Dr. Ryan Sharpe."  
  
"One of the third year med. students?" Asked Jesse incredulously. Amanda looked equally shocked.  
  
"Yes, I recognised the aftershave just now when you pointed it out on the corridor." Mark answered.  
  
"But their must be thousands of men who wear that brand." Nathan said, concerned that his skepticism seemed to be justified.  
  
"True, but how many of those men do you think exactly fit the psychological profile of our attacker. Ryan does I've reviewed his file. How many of them have the necessary medical knowledge and access to drugs and, most crucially, how many of them would have to knock Jesse out to avoid being recognised."  
  
With each line of reasoning Nathan's skepticism was fading. "It all seems to fit, at least enough to pick the guy up for questioning. I'll get on to that right away." Ryan pulled out his radio and moved away from the table to call in his instructions.  
  
"There's something else isn't there?" Amanda asked, recognising from Mark's expression that he had not finished.  
  
"Yes, you remember the day of Steve's first flashback; the really bad one where he relived the attack," Mark's voice almost cracked with emotion as he remembered the pain his son had experienced. Now that he realised the cause it was even more painful for him. "Just before it happened Ryan Sharpe was being given a tour of the ward. That is where he's doing his new rotation, starting next week."  
  
"So Steve could have come face to face with his attacker without even realising it?" Amanda continued horrified at the thoughts she was having to verbalize.  
  
"And the sight of him or something about him, the sound of his voice or even the way he smelt. . . " Jesse continued.  
  
"..Triggered the flashback." Amanda finished for him. "No wonder it had such an effect on him."  
  
There was silence for a few moments as everyone allowed the information to sink in. Mark's thoughts went back to Steve and the trauma that he had been through, particularly in the past few days since the first flashback and then with growing horror a new thought occurred to him.  
  
Nathan had joined them back at the table. Whilst they had been talking the backup had finally arrived to escort Daniel Simms home and take Sarah James' statement. That had freed up Lucy who was now organising a warrant to pick up Ryan.  
  
"OK, I've arranged for Ryan to be picked up andâE¦" Nathan did not get to finish his sentence.  
  
"Oh my God!" The exclamation left Mark's slips almost unconsciously as a new realisation dawned and the colour drained from his cheeks.  
  
"Mark, what is it?" A worried Amanda asked the question for all of them.  
  
"Steve," Mark said barely able to pull himself back to reality. "The so called flashback or nightmare he had last night. What if it wasn't a nightmare? What if he really was attacked again in his hospital room?"  
  
As the implications for their friend sank in, the others quickly shared Mark's horror. Instead of being safe and protected, recovering from his trauma. Steve had been exposed to it all over again. No wonder he had reacted so badly. No wonder Dr. Carter hadn't been able to understand it. They all felt deeply for Steve.  
  
"It never even occurred to me when I spoke to him this morning. Like everyone else I thought it was all in his head." Mark said guiltily.  
  
"There's no way you could have known Mark," Amanda said trying to reassure him and assuage some of his guilt. "No one in your position would have thought any different. Even Steve believed that it was a nightmare"  
  
"But I'm his father," Mark said, allowing the guilt to feed into irrational thoughts and fears. "I'm supposed to protect him and believe him. All I did was expose him to more danger."  
  
Amanda was about to try again to reassure him when they were interrupted by Detective Bradley. "I've just heard from the unit that went to Sharpe's house," Lucy said. "There's no sign of him or his car. We've got officers checking the neighbourhood to see if we can find where he went."  
  
For the second time in ten minutes the colour drained from Mark's face as a new and even more horrific thought began to form in his mind. Steve was still in danger. "We have to get back to the hospital now!" He almost yelled. "I think he may have gone after Steve."  
  
The other's looked at him shocked as he started to get up from the table. "But why?" Nathan asked.  
  
Mark was in a desperate hurry to leave but realised he would have to give some explanation if he was going to get the others to understand his urgency. "Ryan starts his rotation on the psych ward on Monday morning. There's no way he will risk Steve being around to recognise him. He doesn't know that we know who he is yet and after we ruined his plans for tonight he just might take it out on Steve. He knows he's my son."  
  
"What are we waiting for?" Asked Ryan getting up to join Mark in his rush out of the room. Detective Bradley followed her partner.  
  
Jesse forced himself to his feet and this time ignored the dizziness and nausea as he rushed to follow his friends. How ever he felt, the need to help Steve far outweighed his own discomfort.  
  
Amanda helped to steady him as he swayed a little by the door. "Maybe I should get you to the ER," she suggested.  
  
"And leave Steve to the ministrations of that maniac. No way." Jesse replied resolutely.  
  
Realising that she would get nowhere, Amanda decided the best she could do was keep an eye on Jesse and support him when he needed it.  
  
Outside all five of them got into Nathan's car so they could travel using the siren and lights. Speed was of the essence.  
  
As they moved off Mark began to say a silent prayer that they would get there in time.  
  
Ryan watched as the drugs began to take hold of his victim. The once still figure on the bed began first to writhe in pain and then the hallucinations began. 


	12. 

Part 28 The Final Battle  
  
As soon as the car was underway, Mark took out his cellphone and called security at the hospital. He needed to get someone up to Steve's room to check on him as soon as possible. "Damn!" He said, pressing the redial button again.  
  
Amanda and Jesse looked at him questioningly, noticing their expressions he explained, "I'm trying to get through to security to get someone up to Steve's room but it's continually engaged." This time as he redialled he pressed the buttons harder as though that would make a difference as to whether he got through or not.  
  
Lucy was frustrated too; she and Nathan had been listening to the radio in the front. She turned to pass information to the worried doctors in the back. "I'm afraid there are no available units near the hospital. Dispatch say they'll get someone over there as soon as they can."  
  
Mark paused in the process of dialling again, "That may be too late. He's got nearly an hours head start on us," he paused. Ryan had been gone nearly an hour that was plenty of time to get to the hospital and. . . He couldn't finish the thought instead all he could say was, "I pray to God that we're not already too late."  
  
Lucy saw the look of fear that passed across Mark's face, heard the desperate urgency in his words. "I'll get back on to dispatch. See if I can get them to pull someone off whatever they're doing and get them over to the hospital." She turned back to the radio wishing that she could do more.  
  
Nathan had listened to the exchange and put his foot down as hard as he could on the accelerator, grateful that the night-time traffic was light. If willpower alone could have got them to the hospital more quickly, the five people in the car would already have arrived.  
  
Ryan watched as his victim became increasingly agitated. He was no longer lying on the bed but had half staggered half fallen over to the wall trying to escape from some imaginary monster that was assaulting him, as the mind altering chemicals in the drug cocktail really began to take hold. He had never tried this particular mixture of drugs before and was interested to see the effects that it was having on the subject. The analytical part of his mind watched with a certain clinical detachment noting each new reaction with interest. The sadistic part of his nature was just enjoying watching the emotional and physical pain that his victim was suffering.  
  
After a couple more minutes Ryan noted with some reluctance that it was time to leave. The noise would attract the nursing staff soon and he could not afford to be caught in the room. Shame, he was enjoying the results of his little experiment. He would just have to try it again on someone else. Somewhere where he had a little more privacy. He slipped quietly out of the room and hid in the corridor where he could keep an eye on proceedings.  
  
Mark had been trying repeatedly to get through to hospital security for the last five minutes with no success. He could not understand it. Security had several external lines. Why would all of them be engaged at this time of night? Especially for this length of time. Mark had an awful feeling that he knew exactly why; Ryan covering his back. Mark decided to try a new tack. "I'll try ringing the nurses station in the psych ward," he said to no one in particular, "maybe I'll have more luck getting through to them."  
  
One of the nurses on rounds noticed the commotion first. She heard the noises coming from one of the patient's rooms and rushed to see what was going on. A quick look in through the door convinced her that she needed help. She didn't even want to enter the room alone. The way the patient was thrashing about he was a danger to himself and to her. She closed the door and ran back to the nurses' station. "I'll need everyone in room 517," she called out once she was close enough. "The patient's gone berserk. Someone page the on call doctor and get some sedatives down here stat." She turned and ran back down the corridor with two other nurses in tow.  
  
The only remaining nurse picked up the phone and tried to call the on call doctor. She listened to the recorded message which played to her a couple of times before it sank in. "Sorry," an electronic interpretation of a female voice spoke from the handset. "There is a fault on the system. We are doing all that is possible to fix it. Please try again Sorry, there is. . ." She hung up and swore softly under her breath before running off down the corridor to explain the delay to the others. Then she would have to go and find the doctor the old fashioned way; on foot.  
  
Ryan watched events unfold exactly as he had planned. He chuckled to himself, thankful for modern technology. Now that everything, including telephone networks were controlled through computer systems, they were so much easier to sabotage and it was so much less likely to be noticed for what it was. By the time somebody worked out that it wasn't just a fault in the software or a computer virus, he would be long gone. The old fashioned way of cutting wires was less easy to conceal as just bad luck.  
  
Mark threw his mobile phone into the back of Nathan's seat unable to control the frustration and anger. "It's no use," he said. "There's something wrong with the hospital telephone system. I just can't get an answer from anywhere."  
  
"Do you think that it's been sabotaged?" Asked Amanda putting the conclusion that they had all by now come to into words.  
  
"It seems an unlikely coincidence that the phone system would independently develop a fault at just this time." Mark sighed heavily and turned his attention to the young woman in the front seat. "Detective Bradley any news on the police units?" He asked desperately hoping for some good news.  
  
"Well there is at least one more unit on the way now." She replied, not sounding particularly encouraging. "But I doubt that they will get there much before we do."  
  
"How long will that be?" Amanda asked.  
  
Nathan thought about lying to make everybody feel better but realised that the effect would be short lived. Any declaration that they were nearly there would be quickly disproved when they did not arrive, besides all of the doctors worked at Community General. Even though they were approaching from an unusual angle for them, they were still familiar enough with the area to know that it was a lie. "About another ten minutes." He said giving his most honest estimate.  
  
Mark knew that it was going to be the longest ten minutes of his life.  
  
Once the first three nurses were in the room dealing with the manic patient and the remaining nurse had left the ward in search of the doctor, Ryan put the second part of his plan into operation. He walked quickly and quietly down the corridor. What he had experienced so far was just an appetiser, now for the main course.  
  
Everything was working perfectly, his distraction had gone exactly to plan. With all of the nursing staff occupied with another patient the coast was completely clear for him to go and collect Steve Sloan and take him somewhere where they could play properly. The drugs that Ryan had given to the other patient would make him quite unmanageable for some time and his room was just about as far from Steve's as you could get.  
  
He fingered the loaded syringe in his pocket and smiled. This one contained a lethal dose of drugs. Just in case anything went wrong with his plans and he had to depart early, he wanted to make sure that Sloan would not survive. It would however take him a long time to die, plenty of time to have some fun with him first.  
  
Ryan arrived outside Steve's room and positioned the wheelchair that he had acquired by the door. He would need that to move Steve to somewhere quieter.  
  
Steve was lying on his back with his eyes closed when he heard the door open again. He once again tensed and looked over to see who it was and, recognising the nurse's outfit, relaxed and closed his eyes again. Funny it didn't seem like half an hour since the last check. Maybe he had been asleep again.  
  
Everyone in the car sat in silence, lost in their own thoughts unable to do anything until they arrived at the hospital.  
  
Jesse had been quiet for the whole journey. From the moment they had left the bar he had been mentally berating himself for not allowing them to take him to the hospital straight away. If he had done, they would have been there now and Steve would be safe. Instead here they were desperately racing across town and they could already be too late. Those words in particular had cut into Jesse's soul when Mark had spoken them a few minutes earlier. If they were too late then Jesse knew that it was all his fault. The uncomfortable physical symptoms; nausea, dizziness, pain, were nothing compared to the mental anguish that Jesse now loaded onto himself as he considered the fate of his best friend and his perceived responsibility for it.  
  
The guilt did not allow him the clarity of thought to realise that had they not stayed in the bar they would probably not have put the clues together and never would have realised that Steve was in danger. Even if they had gone to the hospital it could have been hours before anyone went to check on Steve, if they had bothered at all. After all they all believed that he was being looked after and was safe.  
  
None of this occurred to Jesse. All he could see is that they had stayed in a bar a long way from the hospital, a long way from Steve and it was his fault.  
  
Ryan walked over to the bed and removed the syringe from his pocket. He looked down at his intended victim who appeared to be sleeping peacefully. He grinned once again as he thought of the pleasures to come. He inserted the needle into Steve's upper arm "Time to go play," he said mockingly.  
  
Nathan took the corner at high speed. He had almost missed the turning and consequently braked late. The back wheels of the car screeched on the road, rubber burning off the surface and failing to give the necessary traction. The car skidded into a spin. Nathan had no choice but to steer into it and allow the car to do a complete 360 degree turn and more. Any other action would probably have caused the car to roll onto its side. They eventually came to a halt facing the wrong direction on the road.  
  
It took a moment for Nathan and the others to recover from the shock of spinning out of control and realise that they were all alright. Nathan gave thanks once again that the traffic was light and that nothing had hit them. "Everyone alright?" He asked.  
  
He got yeses and nods from everyone except Jesse "Jesse?" He asked concerned.  
  
Jesse took a deep breath and swallowed hard. "Yes, sorry I'm fine." He confirmed. Truth was he had narrowly avoided throwing up again. Spinning around in a car and concussion he decided were not a good combination.  
  
"Sorry about that." Nathan apologised as he put the car back into gear and turned it around. He put his foot hard on the accelerator again. Under normal circumstances he would have taken a few minutes to recover from the shock of the spin and the near accident that they had just had but he did not have the luxury of time. Nor could he afford to drive any more slowly, not if they wanted to get to the hospital with any chance of helping Steve. So he ignored the voice of caution in his head and once again put his foot to the floor.  
  
"Time to go play." Steve heard the mocking voice of his nightmares once again and it made his blood run cold.  
  
If Ryan had remained silent Steve would probably not have reacted to the injection. He had been poked, prodded and injected often enough in the past two weeks, not to mention the number of times blood samples had been taken, for the whole experience to become fairly routine. The sound of Ryan's voice, however, made him react. He was not asleep, nor drugged this time. He jerked his arm violently away.  
  
Ryan had only just begun pressing the plunger to deliver it's lethal cocktail when Steve moved. It took him by surprise, he had thought that Steve was asleep. The needle snapped off still embedded in Steve's triceps. Steve let out a cry of pain as the action ripped at the skin and muscle tissue. The rest of the syringe flew off in the opposite direction.  
  
Steve lunged off the bed at his attacker, knocking Ryan backwards. Steve's shoulder pushed into Ryan's abdomen as head down he drove his attacker back. Taken by surprise Ryan staggered back at first but then regained his footing and instead of trying to fight it he moved backwards with it allowing Steve to push him towards the far wall. At the last minute he turned out of Steve's path and helped push him round. Driven by his own momentum Steve could not stop himself from colliding heavily with the wall.  
  
Momentarily dazed Steve tried to stand ready to fight again but his bewilderment had given Ryan enough time to pull his gun from his pocket. Ryan turned it and hit Steve with the butt of the gun just under his left ear. Steve's knees buckled and he dropped to the ground only the wall preventing him from collapsing completely. He knelt leaning heavily and waited for the world to come back into focus.  
  
When it did he truly wished that the blow had rendered him unconscious.  
  
Ryan was furious, everything had been going so perfectly and now his plans were ruined. Again! Twice in one night he had been forced to rethink his strategy. Ryan looked around for the remains of the syringe. Damn! It had been smashed. He took a deep breath and rubbed his stomach where the shoulder charge had impacted. He looked with rage at the barely conscious figure propping himself against the wall and flew at him. It took all of his self control not to just put a bullet in the back of his skull. No, that would be too easy.  
  
He grabbed Steve by the hair pulling his head back viciously and pushed the barrel of the gun into the flesh just under his jawbone. He then forced Steve to his feet. Steve did not rise quickly enough so the pressure from the gun barrel began to cut into his flesh as Ryan forced him up.  
  
Steve winced in pain. He could not fight back, his head was still fuzzy from the blow and as the gun made contact with his jaw he felt the icy grip of terror overtake him as he realised he was once again helpless in the grip of this madman. The pain in his arm and head were enough to tell him that this was no dream. He was barely able to force his limbs to obey him and allow him to stand, only the pain Ryan was inflicting drove him up.  
  
When he was standing Ryan leaned against him, still holding his hair and keeping the gun in position. He placed his mouth next to Steve's ear so Steve could feel his hot breath as he spoke. "Well Detective Sloan or should I call you Steve. That was very naughty wasn't it? I think you will have to be punished for such bad behaviour."  
  
Steve gulped, his terror was increasing by the minute and with it his helplessness; his inability to think straight or react. Ryan once again had control over him.  
  
"Now," said Ryan removing the gun from its position. Steve gasped as the release of pressure caused another stab of pain. "Oh I'm sorry was that hurting you?" Ryan said once again in his mocking tone. He could see the fear in Steve's eyes, feel him trembling and was enjoying every moment. "Never mind Steve let's go somewhere a little quieter." He ran the barrel of his gun up and down Steve's cheek almost caressing it. His voice took on a deadly edge. "Since you broke my syringe you are going to have to walk out of here with me. If you shout out, or struggle, or make any attempt to escape I will have to start shooting, lots of nurses and other patients out there. If I start shooting I may hit some of them. You wouldn't want to cause that would you? You do understand don't you?" He phrased it as a question but Steve did not reply. Ryan yanked sharply back on his hair causing Steve to cry out in pain as it pulled on the gash below his ear where the gun butt had hit. "I said do you understand?" He repeated menacingly.  
  
"Yes," Steve barely whispered.  
  
"Good," Ryan released his grip on Steve's hair and took hold of his arm. Standing behind him, he moved the gun down and pressed it into Steve's side pushing him towards the door.  
  
Mark was consumed with worry, every second seemed like an eternity. Despite the speed of the car it seemed to him like they were travelling in slow motion. How could he have been so slow. Why hadn't he realised sooner that there was something wrong with Ryan Sharpe. He had only spoken to the man a few days earlier. It had been. . . Mark felt sick as the memory of that meeting returned, it had been just after leaving Steve's room on the day of the first flashback. Ryan must have known about it, must have hung around waiting to find out what had happened. He replayed the entire conversation in his mind. Ryan hadn't accidentally bumped into him on the corridor that day. He had done it deliberately to get information about Steve's condition and how much he remembered. '. . and I told him everything he wanted to know,' Mark thought bitterly. 'The man who did this to Steve and I stood there and thanked him for his concern.'  
  
At that moment Mark became consumed with an emotion that he had rarely felt about anyone âE" hate. He hated the man who had attacked Steve and then casually asked him how his son was. He hated the man who could find pleasure in the suffering of others. He hated the man who could put another human being through so much mental torment, a torment from which he might never fully recover.  
  
That thought brought him back to their current situation. Steve might never have the chance to recover. If they did not get to the hospital on time then. . . . . Mark's emotions quickly turned from hate to frustration and anger. They had to get there on time. He could not lose Steve, not like this. He clenched his fists until his nails dug into his palms and his knuckles went white. Every muscle in his body was tense as he looked out of the window of the car, willing the hospital to be closer. He could not take much more of this waiting.  
  
Ryan forced Steve to stop just as they reached the door to the room. He pushed Steve into the wall. "Stay there," he commanded and moved over to the bed keeping Steve covered as he did so.  
  
Steve leaned against the wall, grateful for its support. The small part of his mind that was still capable of rational thought screamed at him to do something, to fight back but the fear was too strong. It engulfed him taking away his will. It paralysed his mind and his body so that he was incapable of independent action. The trauma that this man had put him through had tapped into his deepest fears and now overwhelmed him so completely that there was no fight in him. All he could do was stand and wait for his tormentor to return.  
  
Ryan did not take his eyes off Steve as he moved to the bed where he carefully placed the note addressed to Dr. Mark Sloan. He quickly realised that there was no need to keep the gun on Steve. He was slumped against the wall his eyes staring off into space. The whole of his body language suggested resignation and defeat.  
  
Steve felt a wave of despair wash over him as Ryan returned and once again took hold of his arm. He could not face more torture from this man. Could not go through that horror again. He turned to look Ryan in the eye and saw the amusement and pleasure in Ryan's expression. His eyes however did not seem part of this expression. They were the soulless eyes of a killer. "Please," Steve said in desperation unable to deal with what Ryan may do to him. "Please," he repeated, "just kill me."  
  
Ryan laughed, Steve was actually begging to die. "Oh no Steve, no, no, no," he ran the gun down the side of his victim's cheek again. "That would be far too easy. We have to play first."  
  
Steve swallowed hard and turned away, unable to contemplate what was going to happen to him, he began to withdraw into himself.  
  
Ryan pulled him toward the door. He offered no resistance as he followed.  
  
Amanda and Lucy were the only two people in the car who were not feeling guilty and blaming themselves for the current situation. Nathan felt that he had drawn the three doctors into his investigation unnecessarily. They were civilians, he should not have put them in danger. Even worse because he had drawn them in, Steve Sloan was now in danger again. Dammit he was supposed to protect the victims of crime not put them right back in the firing line. The fact that Steve was also a cop did not make it any easier. What had happened to him had not happened in the line of duty.  
  
Lucy studied her partner. She was worried about him. He had become almost obsessive about this case and had taken every new victim and every setback personally. She did not want to contemplate what it would do to him if they should arrive at the hospital too late to help lieutenant Sloan. She was also concerned about his driving, concerned for the safety of all of them after that last spin. She considered reminding him that it would not help Steve if they were all killed on the way to the hospital but knew that it would do no good. There was nothing she could say that would slow her partner down.  
  
Amanda did not feel guilty she was just worried about the mental and physical state of all of her friends. particularly Mark. Not for the first time in the last few days she tried to put herself in Mark's position. She could not even begin to imagine how she would feel if someone had hurt CJ or Dion in the same way that Steve had been hurt, but she did not think she could be as strong as Mark had been, as strong as he was being now in face of the danger Steve was in. She placed her hand on Mark's arm and instantly felt the tension that was there. She could not bring herself to look into his eyes. She looked out of the window instead and there mercifully within sight was Community General Hospital.  
  
Ryan quickly checked the corridor. When he was sure that it was clear he pulled Steve out of the room and then pushed him in front of him, jabbing his gun into his ribs. He manoeuvred Steve down the corridor to the emergency fire stairs. Under normal circumstances these were locked as the psych ward was a secured area. The release mechanism was connected to the fire alarm system, a system that Ryan had sabotaged. He opened the doors and pushed Steve into the empty stairwell.  
  
From the other side of the corridor Laura watched with horror as she saw Steve being forced at gunpoint from his room. She had not been able to sleep and had decided to get up and check on Steve when she saw him coming out of his room followed by another man. The haunted look had returned to Steve's eyes, his expression that of a frightened child. Even if she had not seen the gun she would have known that there was something very wrong.  
  
She knew that there was nothing that she could do to help directly. She needed to fetch someone who could. She waited until Steve and the stranger had gone past and entered the stairs, before she ran off to the nurses' station in search of help, reaching it she realised with despair that there was no one there. She looked around wild eyed and desperate. What could she do now? She tried in vain to cry out for help but she could make no sound. She heard a noise coming from one of the corridors and ran off down it to see if she could find someone, anyone, who could help.  
  
Nathan braked sharply and screeched to a halt outside the main doors to the hospital. As they all piled out of the car he shouted instructions to Lucy. "Get hold of hospital security and fill them in. Get them to meet us in the psych ward, room 503. We'll go straight there."  
  
"OK," Lucy replied and she sprinted off.  
  
The rest of them headed for the main entrance at a run. Their arrival at the hospital had given them all a sudden boost of adrenaline. They burst through the doors and headed straight for the elevators. A bewildered staff in ER watched as three of their doctors and another man ran straight through and into the first elevator that arrived as though the devil himself was on their trail.  
  
Ryan forced Steve to go down. He was taking him to an empty ward that was currently closed for refurbishments on the second floor. There they would have all of the privacy that he needed and the body would not be discovered until Monday when the contractors returned. Dr. Sloan would have to spend the rest of the weekend wondering what had happened, wondering if the letter that Ryan had left was true.  
  
Steve was finding it difficult to walk down the stairs. In his exhausted and terror stricken state the necessary co-ordination escaped him and he frequently stumbled so that Ryan, instead of using his hand to guide him, ended up using it to support him. Even so Steve was unsteady on his feet. To add to Steve's confusion, the small amount of the drug cocktail that had made it into his system was beginning to take effect. They had almost reached their destination on the second floor when Steve stumbled badly and fell down the last three stairs. Ryan had to let go or be pulled down with him.  
  
"My, my that was clumsy wasn't it Steve?" Ryan said not expecting an answer. He kicked Steve in the ribs before hauling him to his feet. He had put his gun away at the top of the stairs. He had needed both hands to help Steve, besides the state Steve was in he did not think he would be needing it.  
  
Steve stood shakily holding on to his side. Trying without success to recover his bearings  
  
"You need to be more careful," Ryan continued, shoving Steve so that his shoulder impacted violently with the wall.  
  
Steve's upper arm with the needle embedded in it took the full force of his weight and a white hot stab of pain momentarily blocked out all other sensations with its intensity.  
  
The doors opened on the fifth floor and Mark, Amanda, Nathan and Jesse all quickly exited and headed for the secure ward. The first thing that they all noticed was the empty nurses' station. Not a good sign, there should always be someone around.  
  
Despite the fact that he had many years on everyone in the group, Mark was the first one to reach Steve's room. He pushed open the door and rushed in. The moment he entered his heart sank. He looked at the empty bed and the overturned lamp that belied a struggle and stopped dead in his tracks forcing the others to move round him. They were too late.  
  
The headlong rush and flurry of activity that had brought them to this point ended abruptly as they all came to a standstill. The only sound in the room was the heavy breaths that everyone took as they recovered from their exertion. A single question in the group's mind. What now?  
  
Nathan began to look around. Jesse sat down on the arm of a chair and stared around the room. Amanda moved over to the bathroom hoping against hope that Steve would be in there. Mark just stood.  
  
As Nathan looked around for some clue as to where Steve had been taken he noticed first the broken syringe on the floor. That would need to be bagged for evidence later. Right now his priority was finding Steve. He moved over to the bed and saw the envelope, carefully placed on the pillow addressed to Dr. Mark Sloan. He should have put on gloves before touching it but the urgency of the situation meant that he ignored procedure. He would deal with the consequences later. He picked it up and took it over to Mark. "Here," he said, "you'd better look at this."  
  
Mark had been gripped by fear and disappointment at finding the empty room and it had left him momentarily dazed. At Nathan's words he consciously pulled himself together. He took the letter with one hand and taking his glasses from his pocket, he put them on with the other. He tore open the envelope.  
  
Amanda had found nothing in the bathroom and moved over to join the group. Jesse had already moved back to Mark's side.  
  
As Mark read the note the colour drained from his cheeks. He felt his knees weaken and he could not bring himself to take a breath. Suddenly the room seemed oppressive, the walls closing in. He dropped the note and headed for the door. The others watched his reaction Amanda went after him. Jesse and Nathan picked up the note and read it.  
  
Dear Dr Sloan,  
  
Just wanted to be sure that you knew that it is your interference that has cost your precious son his life tonight.  
  
Just for you I'll make sure that he suffers before he dies and knows that all the pain is daddy's fault.  
  
Yours sincerely  
  
A friend.  
  
Both Nathan and Jesse gasped at the cruelty. The killer might as well have stabbed Mark through the heart. If they did not find Steve before Ryan had a chance to complete his threat then no amount of reasoning would prevent this from destroying Mark as well. "This bastard's sick, really sick." Nathan said as they both turned to go after him.  
  
Mark was leaning against the wall on the corridor, his eyes closed, taking deep breaths as he tried to calm himself down and focus. They may not yet be too late if they could find where Ryan had taken Steve, but the pain caused by the words on the note was clouding his mind. Amanda stood by him her hand placed reassuringly on his shoulder. She had not read the note but Mark's reaction was enough to tell her that it was bad.  
  
The white hot pain faded but it had triggered a burst of adrenaline and endorphins into Steve's system that gave him a brief clarity of thought that up until now the fear and exhaustion had blocked. If he did not do something he would die here. His instinct for self preservation took over as the âE~fight or flight' chemicals flooded his brain. "No!" He cried out as once again he threw himself at his attacker.  
  
Ryan had been in the process of taking out his gun again now that he no longer needed two hands to support Steve down the stairs. He was taken completely by surprise as his hitherto passive prisoner flew at him. Steve used all of his body weight to push Ryan backwards into the guard-rail on the stairs. Ryan's lower back took the impact of the weight of both men and he was barely able to prevent himself from toppling over the rail. The gun went flying and landed halfway down the next flight.  
  
Leaving Ryan winded and gasping for breath, Steve turned and ran back up the flight of stairs, anywhere that was away from his tormentor.  
  
It took a few moments for Ryan to recover. He swore as he first went to retrieve his gun and then headed up the stairs after his fleeing victim.  
  
Steve kept on running, driven by a mixture of fear and adrenaline he kept moving upwards, ignoring all of the exits from the stairwell. Exits that would have led him to other people and to help. He passed the doors to the fifth floor, had he gone through them he would have found his father and friends there to help him less than thirty feet away, but his thoughts were too confused to allow him to do anything but move in a single direction away from what he feared.  
  
Nathan and Jesse were lost for words. What could you say to a man who had just read that. Fortunately they were saved from having to decide by the arrival of Lucy with four security guards in tow. She went straight to Nathan.  
  
"We were too late, he's got Steve but he may not be out of the hospital yet." Nathan replied to her unspoken question. "Get these guy's," he pointed at the security men, " and any of our units who turn up to do a floor by floor search of the hospital and get out an APB on Ryan Sharpe's car and another unit over to his flat to search it."  
  
"Are we sure that Steve's been taken by him?" Lucy asked.  
  
"Yes," Nathan replied grimly. "He left Dr. Sloan a note," and he handed her the typed letter. "Bag it for evidence."  
  
Lucy took the note and read it appalled by its content she looked sympathetically over at Mark. "How's he taking it?" She asked.  
  
"How do you think?" Nathan turned to look at Mark. "Look we're going to start looking from here. If you could co-ordinate the rest of the search."  
  
"Sure, I'll get right on to it." Lucy understood her partners reluctance to leave Dr. Sloan and the others to co-ordinate the search himself. She turned back to the security guards and started issuing orders.  
  
Nathan went back to Mark. "OK we've started a search of the hospital. Don't worry we'll find him." He tried to sound as confident as he could.  
  
Ryan was catching up on Steve. Although he had had a fair head start, Steve's physical and mental condition served to slow him down. At his best Steve could have outpaced Ryan easily, although they were both around the same height he was lighter and generally fitter. Ryan's treatment of him had ensured that he was not at his best. With each flight Ryan gained back a little more of the lost ground.  
  
Laura rounded the corner of the hospital corridor and was relieved to see someone that she recognised. Dr. Sloan, he would be able to help Steve. She had found the ward's nurses but they had been too busy dealing with a difficult patient to take the time to try to understand what she was trying to tell them. Eventually she had given up and come back to try to find someone else. She was by now almost frantic with worry about what had happened to her friend. She rushed over to the group and interrupted as they were trying to decide what to do.  
  
Only Mark recognised her but they all recognised the fact that she wanted their attention. "It's Steve's friend Laura," Mark explained. When she made no sound but just gestured, he continued, "she's mute."  
  
"But it sure looks like she knows something," Jesse said. They could all tell from her frightened expression and frantic gestures that she had seen something.  
  
"Calm down, take it slowly, we can't understand you," Mark said soothingly.  
  
Laura took a deep breath and pointed first to Steve's room and then to the emergency stairs.  
  
"You saw Steve being taken by someone into the emergency stairwell?" Mark asked.  
  
Laura nodded frantically  
  
Nathan was already moving. "I'll check it out," he shouted back as he ran. He pushed through the doors and checked the stairs, first looking down and then up. That was when he spotted them about four floors above him and still climbing. He turned and pushed his head back through the doors long enough to shout. "They're here, heading for the roof." Then he turned and moved in pursuit up the stairs.  
  
Mark Laura, Lucy and one of the security guards, the other guards had already left, headed after him towards the stairwell. Jesse knew that he was in no condition to run up the stairs to the roof. "I'll take the elevator," he shouted to their retreating backs.  
  
"I'll go with you," Amanda said moving after him down the corridor.  
  
Steve was slowing down. They were almost at the roof and there was now less than half a flight between him and his pursuer. The adrenaline boost was wearing off and the increased blood flow had caused the drugs that Ryan had managed to inject to circulate more rapidly through his system. Although it was only a fraction of the intended dose it was enough to produce dizziness and disorientation. It was also starting to make his already strained muscles feel like lead. He grabbed onto the rail for support dragging himself up the last few steps. It was no good Ryan caught up with him.  
  
As they reached the top step Ryan grabbed Steve from behind spinning him round he swung his arm and hit Steve a hard blow across the jaw. Steve staggered backwards. He tried to hit back taking a swing at Ryan's head but Ryan ducked easily out of the way and delivered a hard blow to Steve's gut that doubled him over in pain. At that moment Ryan became aware of the pursuers on the stairs.  
  
"Stop police," Nathan shouted. He was about two flights down and could see some of the fight.  
  
Ryan knocked Steve to the floor and answered the shouted warning by turning, aiming his gun and firing at Nathan.  
  
Nathan ducked back as two shots ricocheted around the stairwell. He shouted a warning down to the others who were following him up, before turning his attention back to Ryan. "Give it up Sharpe." Nathan shouted, keeping to the walls he edged his way up. "The whole building is full of police. You'll never get away with it."  
  
"Maybe not," Ryan shouted his reply, "but come any closer and I guarantee that you'll be burying lieutenant Sloan here before me." He pointed his gun at the dazed figure on the floor.  
  
Nathan stopped. It was a stand off. He knew that Ryan would not hesitate to kill Steve if he went any closer. Hell this nut was capable of just shooting him anyway for the kick it would give him. Mark and the others caught up with Nathan and they all stood poised on the stairs. It was now a hostage situation and all they could do was keep this man talking.  
  
"What do you want. Ryan?" Nathan shouted up. His training taught him that what he needed to do was start a dialogue.  
  
Ryan smiled, that was better for a while there he had felt like he wasn't in control but now he was calling the shots again. He started to consider, what did he want?  
  
Jesse and Amanda emerged from the lift on the roof level. The emergency stairs that the others were on were over the opposite side of the building. There was a structure built onto the roof to house the lift and normal stairs on one side and the top of the emergency stairs on the other with an open expanse of roof in between. Amanda cautiously opened the door and looked out. Satisfied that the roof was clear. She walked out and headed across towards the other stairs with Jesse following close behind.  
  
One of the things that Ryan wanted was Steve Sloan dead, maybe he would just shoot him now and take his chances. Steve had managed to get himself to a sitting position but he was still too dazed and drugged to take in what was going on around him. Ryan adjusted his aim to keep his gun trained on Steve's head.  
  
There had been no reply from Ryan so Nathan tried again. "Ryan talk to me tell me what you want. I'm sure we can sort something out."  
  
"Well," Ryan shouted back, "What I want is safe passage out of here with my hostage and I'll give him back to you when I'm free and clear." Ryan laughed. "But you and I both know that isn't going to happen. You're no more likely to let me get clear of here than I am to let Sloan get out of this alive." He laughed again longer this time. "Guess we got ourselves a real Mexican stand off. The only real question is," his voice took on a harder edge, "will you get a SWAT sniper to take me out before I get bored and decide just to kill Sloan anyway." He cocked his weapon to emphasise the point.  
  
Mark swallowed and held his breath.  
  
"No," Nathan tried to keep the panic out of his voice. "It doesn't have to be like that. No one else has to get hurt."  
  
"I'm sorry but you know as well as I do that there's no way both of us are leaving this stairwell alive."  
  
Jesse had opened the door at the entrance to the emergency stairs a crack, enough so that he could just see in. What he saw shocked him, Steve was half sitting half lying on the floor with Dr. Ryan Sharpe aiming a gun directly at his head. Jesse stood as still as he could barely daring to breathe in case a noise from him caused Ryan to pull the trigger. He had clearly heard the last shouted exchange. Amanda was standing behind him. She could not see but she could hear what was going on.  
  
"You could if you were willing to just put the gun down," Nathan kept his voice raised but tried to keep his tone calm and reasonable. He needed to try to reason with Ryan but he was not sure that it was possible to reason with someone who was as insane as Ryan appeared to be.  
  
"Haven't you got it yet. I don't want both of us to leave this stairwell alive." Ryan paused for a moment. "I just haven't decided which one of us is going to die yet."  
  
Nathan drew in a deep breath. How did you reply to that? This was way beyond the scope of his training. He looked down at the worried father beside him. Whether he knew what to do or not he had to keep trying. "Can I ask you a question?" Nathan shouted. The only thing he could think of was to get Ryan into a conversation. Whilst he was talking he wasn't shooting. That would give the SWAT team that Nathan knew Lucy would have called time to arrive.  
  
"What?" Ryan shouted back.  
  
"Why? Why do you attack people like this?" Nathan asked.  
  
"Because it's interesting," Ryan replied without emotion. "Watching the way different people deal with stress and pain has always fascinated me. I enjoy it"  
  
"Is that why you are training to be a doctor?"  
  
"Yes."  
  
"But why leave it 'til so late, you could have trained ten years ago?"  
  
Ryan laughed again " I had to wait for them to let me out. You see I've been caught before, I was placed in a secure institution for eleven years for. . . What did they call it? Yes severe antisocial behaviour. They let me out three years ago because I was cured or at least that's what they said. So the decision I'm trying to make now is do I want to go back to that lifestyle because that's where they will put me or do I want to satisfy my curiosity about what it is like to die."  
  
Ryan's words sent a chill through the bones of all who heard him. It wasn't just the shocking facts he was revealing but the clinical way with which he delivered them. The laughter at the most inappropriate times just made it even more chilling.  
  
"I think I've decided," Ryan said it as an announcement, "I'm bored and even if I do shoot Sloan, there'll be no reason to shoot me afterwards, if I drop my gun." Ryan turned his head back towards Steve who by now had just enough grip on reality to realise that he was staring into the barrel of a gun.  
  
"Nooo!" A chorus of voices cried out as Ryan went to pull the trigger.  
  
Nathan moved out to try to get a clear shot. Mark moved after him.  
  
For Jesse the whole world seemed to go into slow motion as, realising from his words what Ryan was about to do he pushed the doors open and dived across the small gap aiming for Ryan's gun arm. He successfully knocked it out of the way just as it fired. Then everything seemed to speed up as an infuriated Ryan hit him full force in the face and he flew backwards, hitting his head against the wall he dropped to the floor. Amanda not caring for her own safety rushed to his side.  
  
Ryan moved to retrieve his fallen weapon from where it came to rest by the top step. As he bent down Steve lunged at him and Ryan lost his balance and tipped backwards down the stairs. He landed at an awkward angle on the landing below.  
  
There was an eerie silence in the stairwell after the intense activity which had lasted only a few seconds.  
  
"Amanda, Jesse Steve?" Mark shouted up unable to see what was going on.  
  
Amanda leaned over the rail. "We're all OK Mark. Steve and Jesse are a little beat up but they'll be fine. Check on Dr. Sharpe." She looked at Steve who was leaning with his back against the rail, she'd check on him in a minute and then she moved over to Jesse.  
  
Jesse sat with his hand on his head. "Two concussions in one night. That's a record even for me!" He said.  
  
Amanda smiled if he was joking it couldn't be that bad. "We're going to get those X-rays and scans this time though."  
  
Mark had moved up to where Ryan had fallen. Looking at him Mark didn't really need to check for a pulse. The angle of the head told him that Ryan's neck had broken as he landed. He checked for one anyway, better to be thorough. As expected he did not find one. He turned to Nathan. "He's dead, broken neck," he stated simply, standing up again.  
  
"I guess he was right," Nathan looked down at the corpse of his nemesis for the past three and a half months. "He got what he wanted. He said either him or Steve would not survive."  
  
"Thank God it wasn't the other way around."  
  
"Thank God and Jesse," Nathan said, "without him the situation could have turned out entirely differently"  
  
"Speaking of whom I'd better go up and check on him and Steve." Mark moved off up the stairs. Nathan and Laura, who had been by Mark's side the whole time, followed him.  
  
As he moved up the stairs Mark had chance to wonder, for the first time since they arrived at the hospital, what effect this new trauma would have on his son's mental state. Up to this point his main concern had been Steve's physical survival. Now that he was safe again, now that it was all over, he could consider the other effects.  
  
The group arrived at the top of the stairs to see Amanda knelt down next to Jesse checking the wound on his scalp. Mark looked around. "Amanda where's Steve?"  
  
Amanda turned to point to the stair rail where she had left Steve sitting only moments before. "He's right. . . " she began but her words tailed off as she realised that the top of the stairwell was empty except for her and Jesse. Instantly concerned her voice changed as she corrected herself. "He was right there." She exchanged a horrified look with Mark and rose to her feet as they rushed out of the door on to the roof.  
  
It took them a moment to spot him over to one side wondering in a dazed state. "Steve!" Mark shouted hurriedly heading in his direction.  
  
Steve heard the shout and turned to see the group of blurred figures rushing towards him. In his now completely confused and terrified mind, these people were coming to get him. They were going to hurt him. He had to get away from them. He backed off, stumbling as he went. The drugs had truly taken hold and robbed him of his co-ordination.  
  
As they tried to get closer Mark realised to his horror that Steve did not recognise them. He was afraid of them. Each step they moved forward made Steve move back., back towards the edge of the roof. Mark put his arms out to stop everyone. "We have to stop," he explained. "I don't think he recognises who we are. Any closer and we'll drive him off the edge." Then he changed his tone and tried once again to shout to his son. "Steve, it's me dad. Steve everything's going to be alright son." He tried taking one more step forward on his own, gesturing to the others to back off.  
  
It was no good Steve could not make sense of the words, it was some sort of trick. These people were chasing him. Steve took another step back edging ever closer to the edge of the roof and oblivion.  
  
Mark stood and watched helplessly. Steve was only a few feet away from him but it might as well have been a mile wide chasm. He tried desperately to think of some way to get through to his son. To let him know that everything would be alright and realised with an overpowering irony how close an analogy this situation of physical danger was to the psychological and emotional ones his son had been through in the last two weeks. He hadn't been able to get through to him or help him in those situations either. All he could do was stand and watch. Any action was likely to make things worse.  
  
It looked like Ryan may still get his other wish, for Steve Sloan to die  
  
Steve watched the blurred figures watching him. What were they waiting for? Why didn't they come after him? Why didn't they attack? He shivered as a sharp gust of wind blew out the thin sweatsuit he was wearing. He moved a little further backing up unsteadily.  
  
Mark felt his heart skip a beat as Steve made contact with the wall at the edge of the roof. He sat down on it. Mark could barely bring himself to watch. Steve was so disoriented he could topple over so easily but he knew if he tried to go to him Steve would certainly fall.  
  
Amanda put her hand on his shoulder. "Oh Mark" was all she could say.  
  
Suddenly as though she had been transported there Mark and Amanda noticed Laura walking along the top of the wall towards Steve. She must have climbed on to it further up but they had been so focused on Steve that they hadn't seen her. They realised instantly her simple but extremely dangerous strategy. Walking along the wall meant that if Steve would not accept her approach, at worst he would back away from her along the wall. More likely he would move away from the edge of the roof. If he did accept her approach then maybe she could reach him and bring him back with her. Clever Mark thought. Of course there was the danger that she might fall or be blown off before she ever reached him and the danger that once she were close enough he might accidentally knock her off.  
  
If any of them had known what she was planning they would have stopped her but she was doing it now and all they could do was stand and watch.  
  
It seemed to take forever for her to get close to Steve. She was within five feet of him when he noticed and turned to look at her. The slow pace was deliberate on Laura's part. She did not want to risk startling Steve so she kept her movements slow and graceful. Steve watched her. Even in his confused state he could tell that this figure meant him no harm.  
  
She moved closer, everyone held their breath as Laura reached out and offered Steve her hand. He took it and she moved in jumping lightly down onto the concrete roof. She stood in front of him and pulled gently. He did not resist realising that she did not want to hurt him. Slowly she led him away from the wall. Mark, Amanda and Nathan stepped back leaving Laura to lead Steve to safety.  
  
As Steve walked the physical and emotional strain that his body had been through began to make itself known. Now he was no longer in danger, real or imagined, the effects of the adrenaline that had been keeping him going wore off and the drugs in his system claimed him. He collapsed, Laura was not strong enough to support him for more than a few seconds but she did not have to as Mark and Nathan moved in and gently laid him down.  
  
It took ten minutes to get Jesse and Steve down to the ER so they could be checked out.  
  
All Amanda and Mark could do was sit and wait for them to be checked over and treated. Nathan and Lucy disappeared to deal with Ryan's body and gather evidence from around the hospital. Amanda would do the autopsy tomorrow. They sat in the doctors lounge Amanda keeping a careful eye on Mark after all that he had been through she wouldn't have been surprised if he had gone into shock.  
  
Eventually Dr. Taylor came in with his report. "Quite a catalogue of injuries between the pair of them but nothing life threatening," he smiled at them. "Jesse's got a concussion and a hairline fracture to the skull. So we'll be keeping him in for a few days. He's got some bad bruising around the ribs but fortunately none of them are broken. Steve has had six stitches in a scalp wound and had to have minor surgery to remove a hypodermic needle that was embedded in his upper arm, bruising around that area meant that it made quite a mess. He's got some other minor cuts and contusions which we've cleaned and dressed. He should be fine in a couple of days." He paused. "I took the liberty of paging Dr. Carter to come back in she's with him now. I thought in view of the circumstances. . . " He let it tail off.  
  
"Yes, thank you again Bill, for all your help."  
  
"I'll get back then. You can see Jesse now. I'll come and let you know when you can see Steve."  
  
Jesse was sitting propped up in bed looking sorry for himself. "At least four days in here," he complained. "I can't survive on hospital food for four days"  
  
Mark and Amanda both smiled and walked over to the bed. At least Jesse was himself.  
  
"How's Steve?" He asked.  
  
"Physically," Mark answered, "better off than you I'd say. Dr Carter is with him now we're waiting to see him and," Mark added "it's all thanks to you." Mark's voice became heavy with emotion as he tried to show his gratitude. Jesse had after all saved Steve's life. "Thank you, that's a very brave thing you did up there."  
  
"It's nothing that Steve wouldn't have done for me," Jesse replied brushing off the praise. "Only he wouldn't have got himself thrown into a wall." He added trying to lighten the mood.  
  
Mark and Amanda laughed. That was typical of Jesse he did not handle praise or thanks well and often resorted to humour to cover himself.  
  
Dr. Carter appeared at the door. "Mark, Steve's asking for you."  
  
Mark entered Steve's room, it was not the one he had been attacked in they had moved him to another. Steve sat propped up with his eyes closed. Mark moved over to him and gently rested his hand on his son's. Steve opened his eyes and took a few moments to focus. He smiled as he recognised Mark. "Dad," he said, squeezing his father's hand  
  
"Yes, son," Mark was relieved by the instant recognition and let out a breath he had not even known he was holding.  
  
"Dr. Carter tells me you got him, that you got the man who.. that he's dead." Steve said it as a question not a statement.  
  
Obviously Steve could not remember that it was he who killed him. "Yes son he's dead." Mark confirmed.  
  
"Good," said Steve with a deep sigh "then it's finally all over." 


	13. 

Part 29 - Epilogue  
  
Mark sat down on the edge of the bed unwilling to let go of Steve's hand to pull up a chair. Unwilling to break the physical contact with his son, that reassured him that he hadn't lost him, a reassurance that being told or even just seeing him could not have provided. Mark watched as Steve drifted off to sleep. He looked peaceful and calm, lying back against the white sheets, more relaxed than Mark could remember seeing him since this whole sequence of traumatic events began.  
  
He had lost count of how many times he had been in danger of losing Steve in the past two weeks. If you put them all together it seemed like more than one person should have to endure in a lifetime. Normally Mark could blame Steve's chosen profession when confronted with this sort of worry but this time the only reason Steve was in danger was because he was successful and that success could have been in anything. In all the years that Mark had been solving crimes, even when he or Steve had been put in danger, he had never understood what it was truly like to be a victim of a random act until now. The fact that the crime was so impersonal made it all the more horrific and difficult to come to terms with.  
  
Mark sat lost in thought for about half an hour. Steve drifted in and out of sleep, the mixture of drugs in his system and his general exhaustion prevented him from coming fully awake again but he stirred occasionally. At one point he came round enough to look up at his father, who still sat holding his hand, and smile before closing his eyes again and going back to sleep.  
  
Dr. Carter returned and entered the room. She had to say Mark's name three times before he even realised that she was there and responded.  
  
"Dr. Carter, I'm sorry I was miles away," Mark apologised realising from her tone and the fact that she was almost next to him before he noticed her that this wasn't her first attempt at getting his attention.  
  
"No need to apologise Mark, I just came back to check on things. How's he doing?"  
  
Mark looked down at his sleeping son and reluctantly let go of his hand so he and Dr. Carter could move to the other side of the room. He did not want to risk their conversation waking Steve. "Well he's been asleep for the last half hour or so but shouldn't I be asking you that?" He replied as they both moved away from the bed.  
  
"Yes you probably should but unfortunately at the moment I can't really give you any sort of answer. He's been through a lot tonight and given how vulnerable he was before this latest trauma," She looked directly into Mark's eyes trying to read his expression. "I'd be lying if I said I wasn't worried, but until the effect of the drugs wear off I can't really assess him. Only time will tell what effect this will have on him. My question should really have been 'How's he been whilst you've been sitting with him?' Any signs of distress?"  
  
"No he's been calm, just sleeping." Mark looked over at the peaceful form on the bed. "His last words to me were 'good then it's finally over.'"  
  
Dr. Carter smiled, despite her assertion that she could not assess Steve's condition until the drugs wore off, this was a very positive sign "Excellent," she said, then in reply to Mark's quizzical expression she tried to explain. "In some ways Steve has been lucky this evening."  
  
Mark's inquiring expression changed to one of shocked disbelief. How could anyone describe anything that had happened to Steve that evening as lucky. "Lucky.." he began to say.  
  
Dr. Carter realising that her train of thought had left Mark a long way behind and that perhaps she was not phrasing her explanation as well as she could, backtracked. "I'm sorry, I'm not putting this very well. I'm not talking about the attack but how it ended. There are two positive psychological outcomes from what happened to Steve tonight. First, despite his fear he managed to fight back. Something that was denied him completely in the first and, now we know about it, the second attack. For him the knowledge that he did fight back will help enormously. Second his attacker is dead and can no longer threaten him. That will give him a sense of closure that is denied to most people who are victims of this type of crime. Many of them never even see their attacker caught and punished. The reason I'm so pleased with Steve's comment is because it means there is a good chance that Steve has that sense of closure already. It will take time and a lot of work but I believe that we can put Steve's demons to rest." She paused giving Mark a chance to digest what she had said. "Our real problems would have arisen if Steve was unable to believe that the source of his trauma had gone."  
  
Mark saw the wisdom in her words. "So Steve's not out of the woods yet. . . "  
  
"But I think he may have found the path," she finished the analogy and smiled reassuringly.  
  
Mark looked over at his son, so much hope contained in such a few words. A real sign that given time Steve may indeed fully recover.  
  
"What about you?" Dr. Carter asked.  
  
Mark was thinking about Steve and it took him a moment to realise that she had asked a question. He had not been concentrating enough to take in what the question had been. "Sorry?"  
  
"I said, 'what about you?'" She repeated. "How are you coping with what's happened?"  
  
"Me?" Mark hadn't really thought about himself. "I'm fine," he said smiling at her. "I'm just worried about Steve."  
  
"Well you should take some time to worry about yourself. This sort of thing can have almost as damaging effect on relatives as it can on the victim himself. You need to take the time to deal with your own emotions. Talk to someone or you'll be no use to Steve."  
  
Despite his assertion to the contrary, Mark knew that she was right. "Yes doctor," he replied as though taking an order  
  
"I'm serious," she said not sure if he was mocking her.  
  
"I know, I'm just not very good at taking advice that I know if the situation were reversed I would be giving." Mark sighed. "I will talk to someone."  
  
"Good because I. . . " she was a little hesitant before continuing not sure how Mark would react to what she had to say. "I spoke to Detective Turner about the events of the evening and I.." she paused again, "I saw the note."  
  
The memory brought with it a sharp pain, reading it while Steve was in danger had torn at Mark's soul. The parental instinct to protect had been cruelly turned into a weapon by a man who could never understand or experience the feelings he invoked. He let out a short gasp and turned to look at his son. Only the sight of Steve lying safe and peaceful allowed him to regain control.  
  
Dr. Carter watched Mark closely. She had mentioned the note to reinforce her message that he too had a lot to deal with and he shouldn't neglect his own emotional healing. Seeing his reaction she wondered if maybe she should have used a different, less traumatic example.  
  
She waited to see if he would make a comment when he didn't she spoke softly "I can recommend someone."  
  
"Thankyou," there was genuine gratitude when he replied. "I'll take you up on that." He paused, "tomorrow, for now I'd just like to sit with my son." He tore his gaze away from the bed to look at the doctor. "If that's alright."  
  
Dr. Carter smiled at him. "I think that would be fine. I'm going to go and check on my other patients. I'll be back later to see how you are doing." She did not even try to dissuade him from staying knowing that he needed the reassurance of physically being there with Steve to put to rest his fears. Steve also needed someone there in case he awoke.  
  
Dr. Carter left to see her two other patients who had been affected by the trauma of the evening; first Laura and then Peter Jackson, the unfortunate patient whom Ryan had used as a decoy.  
  
As Mark settled down into the chair next to Steve he said two silent prayers. One of thanks for bringing them all relatively intact through the events of the evening and a second prayer for the safe recovery of them all.  
  
Three days later Nathan knocked on the door of the beach house clutching a bottle of wine in one hand and a pile of folders in the other. Mark opened the door in his apron and greeted Nathan with a warm smile. "Come in, come in," he said taking the proffered bottle. "Amanda is already here and Jesse as you know is staying anyway." Mark walked back towards the kitchen as he spoke, with Nathan following. He continued on to see to the food he was cooking as Nathan entered the dining area, where he got similar warm greetings from Jesse and Amanda.  
  
The dinner had been arranged as a celebration now that the case was over. An opportunity to tie up loose ends and put the now abundant evidence together. Ryan was dead and there was no legal reason to do this apart from satisfying their own curiosity.  
  
Jesse had been allowed to leave the hospital early on the understanding that he went to stay with Mark. He had readily agreed not wishing to stay as a patient in the hospital for a moment longer than necessary. He had somewhat flippantly suggested that maybe he should start paying rent or perhaps consider subletting his own apartment given the amount of time he was spending at the beach house. Mark had laughed, both men appreciated the company and the support of the other even now that the crisis seemed to be over, and all the signs were that the crisis was indeed over, with Ryan's death it was like a dark foreboding cloud had lifted.  
  
When Steve had awoken the day after the final attack, having had what was a relatively peaceful nights sleep, he was still quiet and obviously troubled by the trauma he had suffered but there was a difference. As Dr. Carter had said he seemed to have accepted that the cause of the trauma would not return, an important step forward. He still had to deal with the memories but nothing new threatened to halt his improvement.  
  
Nathan sat at the table and put his files down as Mark returned with a glass of wine for him. Mark then returned to the kitchen to finish the cooking. They did not speak about the case until after they had eaten and cleared up.  
  
Amanda began, "No surprises from the autopsy, Ryan died of a broken neck from the fall down the stairs. It severed his spinal chord and killed him instantly."  
  
"Too good for him," Nathan said with feeling. The doctors all stared at him, a little shocked by the venom with which he had delivered the comment. He stared back. "Oh come on, surely you don't feel anything for him after what he did. If he had survived, he was right, they would have just locked him up in an institution. They might even have let him out as 'cured' in another ten years to terrorize and kill again."  
  
Mark answered for them. "Well as a doctor I believe that all life is sacred and if Ryan had just injured himself I would have tried to save him, but as a father I have to admit I find it difficult to grieve for anyone who could inflict so much suffering on his fellow man."  
  
"Have we any idea why he did it?" Amanda asked.  
  
Nathan sighed and picked up the file. "No reason that any of our experts can fathom. I wish I could say that he came from a broken home or he was abused or neglected as a child and that drove him to this sort of behaviour, but I can't. He came from a well adjusted, rich family from the classier part of the suburbs. Apart from the fact that he was a bit of a loner at school he had everything going for him." He sighed again. He had opened the file to a psychological report of Ryan as a teenager. He handed it around for the doctors to look at, summarising it's contents as he did so. "His anti social behavior was first noticed when he was thirteen. He wrote an essay in which he described how he had tortured and killed a pet cat. The teacher was concerned and called in the school counselor. They monitored his behavior closely. His parents were finally persuaded to have him committed when he attacked a fellow student with a knife to, and I quote 'see how he responded to pain.'"  
  
Jesse let out a low whistle "and they put this guy back on the streets."  
  
"In some ways I wish this had gone to trial." Amanda said passing the file on. " He made no attempt to be careful. I don't remember ever having so much physical evidence. All of the DNA matches were positive."  
  
"Was there much forensic evidence in his apartment or did he take his victims elsewhere?" Jesse asked.  
  
Nathan blanched slightly at the memory of the hidden room they had found in Ryan's apartment. As far as he was concerned chamber of horrors was an understatement. "No, he definitely took them back to his apartment. We found a room with the entrance hidden behind a wardrobe. I have never seen anything so grotesque and never want to again." The haunted look that crossed his face as he remembered what he had seen made it obvious to all of them that the experience of sifting through the room of a madman had taken its toll on him. "It was set out like some sort of gothic torture chamber and, to answer your question Jess, there was enough evidence to convict him a thousand times over. As far as we can tell there were nineteen victims in the last three years. He kept momentoes and a scrapbook on them all."  
  
"Momentoes?" Amanda asked.  
  
"Yes, for some bizarre reason he kept their shoes."  
  
Mark momentarily flashed back to the day he had found Steve outside the beach house barefoot. The memory still brought back a maelstrom of emotions but the pain was easing as Steve's recovery progressed.  
  
"I haven't brought the file containing what we found there." Nathan continued. "You'll just have to trust me when I tell you that you're better off not knowing. In fact I am relieved that there won't be a trial. The less people who have to know what this madman did the better."  
  
"Amen to that." Mark said not even wanting to consider what they would be facing now if Ryan had survived. Everyone at the table now understood the emotion Nathan had put into his earlier comment.  
  
There was silence, everyone was lost in thought, thinking about what might have happened. There were so many disastrous outcomes that could have ensued. It was Jesse who finally broke the mood. "Hey what are we all so down about? We're meant to be celebrating right?"  
  
"Right," the others agreed and with that everyone did their best to shake off the thoughts of what might have been and celebrate their success instead. The celebration continued late into the night.  
  
The next day Mark and Jesse slept late, Jesse narrowly beating Mark out of bed. He had the coffee brewing by the time Mark appeared.  
  
"Morning Jess," he said brightly as he entered the kitchen.  
  
"Morning, sit down I've started breakfast," said the younger man passing him a steaming cup.  
  
"Are you coming in to the hospital to see Steve?" He asked. "I thought I'd take him up a bag of fresh clothes. You could take them in if you'd like."  
  
The comment made Jesse realise that he would have to tell Mark something that he had been putting off. There was no way that he could divert Mark from going down to Steve's apartment again. He sat down ignoring the breakfast he had been cooking. "Mark there's something I need to tell you"  
  
The uncharacteristically serious tone in Jesse's voice as well as the fact that he took a seat quickly cleared any residual sleepiness that Mark was experiencing. "Jesse?" His concern showed in the single word.  
  
"It's about Steve's apartment," he began hesitantly. "I stopped you going down there the other day because it's been. . . . rearranged. Before Steve went into the hospital when he was going to. . . " He couldn't bring himself to say it so he just left the sentence unfinished. "He sorted all of his things out so that we wouldn't have to." He watched his friend closely knowing that he had to continue. "You'll find all of his possessions sorted into piles depending on who he wanted to leave them to."  
  
The sound that escaped Mark's lips was half gasp half sigh. It took a few moments before he could speak. "Thanks for telling me Jess. I'd better go down and get his things." He got up as he spoke.  
  
"Do you want me to come with you?"  
  
"No Jess, I need to see this alone," he replied and turned and headed out of the kitchen.  
  
He steeled himself as he went down the stairs, thinking back to that day. Steve had said that he wanted to make it easier on him. How could he have thought that anything would make it easier?  
  
When he entered the apartment the image of all of Steve's stuff sorted and ready to move as though he were already dead was enough to break Mark's tenuous control on his emotions. As he looked around the room the tears started to form in his eyes. "Oh Steve," he said quietly and then he began to cry. Unable to stand any longer, as his strength deserted him, he sank down on to the sofa and wept allowing the tears to wash away all of the pain, hurt and anguish of the past few weeks, letting everything go.  
  
When he finally emerged at the top of the stairs nearly two hours later, much to the relief of Jesse who had spent at least the last hour trying to decide whether to leave him or risk going down and checking on him, his eyes were puffy and his complexion pale but he felt much better for having let the emotion go. Now he was ready to follow Dr. Carter's advice and find someone to talk to.  
  
"Mark?" Jesse said not having to actually phrase the question, both men knew what he was asking.  
  
"I'm fine Jess." Mark said, genuinely believing it for the first time in weeks. "I'm just fine."  
  
Steve was coming to the end of his daily therapy session with Dr. Carter. It had been over three and a half weeks since the final attack. He looked up at her. "I have a question?"  
  
She did not say anything she merely looked at him with a please continue expression. Most of her time in these sessions was now spent listening. In the last few weeks Steve's recovery had been remarkable. She could see the change in him every day and whereas at first she had had to prompt and coax responses out of him, he now pretty much lead his own counseling. The mixture of cognitive and group therapy and Steve's own desire to recover had helped enormously. Steve was also taking antidepressants and they had undoubtedly helped to kickstart his recovery.  
  
Dr. Carter waited for him to continue with his question. He took a moment to phrase it before he spoke. "I've been thinking about going home. Have you any idea how long it will be before I can leave here?"  
  
Dr. Carter smiled another positive sign but still she did not answer.  
  
Steve looked at her realising that as with so much over the last week or so she was expecting him to answer his own question. She had explained at the time that she was going to start doing this, something about it helping his recovery if he relied less on others to decide things for him. He thought about it. "When I think I'm ready, right?"  
  
She nodded. "Yes," She said continuing to smile.  
  
"You know you made things a lot easier for me when I first came in here." His tone was accusatorial, but he flashed her a smile that would melt hearts.  
  
"You needed me to when you first came in here." She said simply.  
  
"I get it and I don't now?"  
  
"Exactly."  
  
"So you think I could go home soon then?" he asked still needing her to reassure him despite the fact that as she had said, he could now make his own decisions.  
  
Having allowed him to essentially make the first move himself she confirmed his idea more strongly. "When you think you are ready then I'm not going to disagree. You'll have to keep coming in as an outpatient but as soon as you feel comfortable with the idea then yes, you can go home." She paused, "do you feel ready?"  
  
"Almost," he replied. It had suddenly occurred to him that it was a measure of how ill he had been that this was the first time he had even thought about going home. Normally it was the first question out of his mouth when he came into the hospital.  
  
He hadn't expected the answer that she had given him either. If it was his decision then he would have to consider it carefully. Going home was a nice idea but was he ready to leave the safety and security of the unit yet? He wasn't so sure. He would need more time to think about it.  
  
He left Dr. Carter's office deep in thought. The flashbacks were easing off and getting fewer and farther between everyday. He was also much better at dealing with them when they did occur, and he had been feeling a lot more positive recently but then was that just because of all of the support he was getting? Steve decided that he probably needed a few more days before he was ready to face the world.  
  
Returning to his room he found Jesse waiting for him. "Hi Steve how's it going?"  
  
"Fine," Steve replied, "matter of fact I've just been talking to Dr. Carter about the possibility of being allowed home."  
  
Jesse's already wide grin broadened even more. "Excellent, you must be relieved about getting out of here?"  
  
"Haven't really thought about it, but yes, getting back to the beach house and the ocean would be really great. How's everything for you guy's"  
  
"Fine," Jesse replied. It was so nice to be able to hold a proper conversation with Steve again. He really was finally getting back to his old self. "But are you sure you just don't want to leave because Laura isn't here any more?"  
  
Laura had left a week earlier. Mark had helped Dr. Carter to find her accommodation in a half way house rehabilitation unit where residents had their own studio apartments as well as a warden and communal and support facilities. He felt it was the least he could do after Laura had saved his son's life and, he suspected, had helped save his sanity. They had also been able to help Laura find work. She had trained as a bookkeeper before the trauma that had led to her hospitalisation. With Steve out of commission in the hospital and Jesse having to run BBQ Bob's on his own it was getting very difficult so they had killed two birds with one stone and had hired Laura as a manager.  
  
"I do kinda miss her," Steve said whistfully, "How's she doing?"  
  
"Well she's doing a great job of running Bob's so far and seems to be settling in well."  
  
Jesse paused unsure of how to phrase his next question. "Steve?"  
  
"Yes."  
  
"About you and Laura."  
  
Steve smiled he knew from the expression on his face where this was going. In fact he had seen the spark between Jesse and Laura the moment they had met two weeks ago but he hadn't said anything. He regarded Laura as a good friend but knew there could never be anything romantic between them. Just the circumstances of their meeting would doom any romance to disaster, besides it wasn't that sort of attraction he had for her. It was like having another younger sister. Steve decided to have a little fun at his friend's expense. "Yes," He said innocently.  
  
"I. . . .uhmm. . . how's. . . how's it going between you two?"  
  
"Fine we get on really well." Steve said watching the younger man squirm.  
  
"Oh," said Jesse "That's good."  
  
"Why?'  
  
"No reason just wondered."  
  
"Matter of fact," Steve decided to tease a little further before coming clean. "I was going to ask her out on a date when I get out of here. What do you think?"  
  
Jesse looked momentarily crestfallen and then he covered it. "That's great," he managed to force out. Steve had been through enough, Jesse didn't want him to know about his own feelings for Laura in case it upset him. As usual Jesse wasn't aware that he was broadcasting his feelings loud and clear. His emotions were written all over his face and in his body language.  
  
Steve decided to put him out of his misery. "As a friend of course." Jesse looked at him a little confused. "Of course if there was anyone who wanted to get romantically involved with her then I'd have to step back. Laura and I don't feel that way about each other." Steve continued looking at Jesse with his most mischievous grin.  
  
Realisation dawned, Steve had known all along and had been teasing him. "So you mean you don't mind if I ask her out?" Jesse asked.  
  
"Mind? From what I saw I think she'll be offended if you don't." Steve replied.  
  
Jesse smiled again. "Well one thing's for sure," he paused. "If you can tease me like that you must be getting better."  
  
It was another five days before Steve decided that he was ready to go home. Mark picked him up from the hospital and drove him to the beach house. Together they carried his bags to the door to his apartment. Steve hesitated at the door, for the first time remembering how he had left it.  
  
"Come on son," Mark said gently, noticing the hesitation. "Putting it off won't make it any easier."  
  
Steve nodded and turned the key in the lock. He pushed the door open and walked inside. He gasped as he looked round everything had been put back, as far as he could tell in the right places.  
  
"Hope you don't mind," Mark said from behind him. "Jesse and Amanda helped. I think we put everything back where it came from."  
  
Steve turned round to look at his father. "Thanks dad," was all he said. It was enough.  
  
"If you feel up to it I've arranged a little get together upstairs to welcome you home." Mark took Steve's bags through to the bedroom as he spoke. " Just Jesse, Amanda, Laura and Nathan, you don't have to if you're not up to it. What do you think?"  
  
"Great," Steve said "There's just something I've got to do first and then I'll be up."  
  
"OK, I'd better go and entertain my other guests. I'll see you in a little while," and Mark headed off up the stairs.  
  
A short while later out on the deck Mark spotted Steve standing on the beach by the edge of the ocean. He thought briefly about walking out to join him but decided against it. What Steve needed at the moment was space. Then he realised that somebody else had decided to join him anyway. Laura was walking out across the dunes toward him.  
  
Steve stood at the water's edge, watching the waves gently lap the shore, taking deep breaths of the salty air and just appreciating being alive. He hadn't realised just how much he had missed this.  
  
As he stood he became vaguely aware of someone approaching. He waited until whoever it was had stopped by his side before he turned to see who had joined him. It was Laura. They made eye contact to acknowledge each other's presence but Steve did not speak as he did not want to break the serenity of the moment as he turned to gaze back out at the ocean. They remained standing next to each other for the next ten minutes just soaking up the view of the setting Winter sun.  
  
"Beautiful isn't it Steve?." Laura finally said.  
  
Steve turned to look round wondering who else had joined them and spoken. Then he realised there was no one else there. It had been Laura. The tables were turned as Steve found himself lost for words, "What?. . . How?. . . Why?" He eventually managed to force out as he turned to look at his newest friend.  
  
"Since that night in the hospital I've been going for speech therapy. I didn't want to let you know until I knew that it would work." Laura explained.  
  
In fact it had taken her a long time to convince Dr. Carter to let her try speech therapy again. Each time they had tried it in the past it had triggered such strong emotions and flashbacks it had always set her recovery back by months. That is why they had eventually abandoned it and opted to let her learn to sign. Laura was, however, insistent. Her inability to scream when she had seen Steve being taken away at gunpoint and her inability to get anyone to understand when she asked for help had left her feeling helpless in a way that she never wanted to feel again. Her persistence had paid off.  
  
"I wanted to surprise you," she continued.  
  
"You certainly managed that," Steve said turning he placed his arms around her. She wrapped her arms around his waist and buried her face in his chest. They stood for several minutes hugging each other sharing a moment of true friendship.  
  
Finally Steve turned his head and kissed her gently on the forehead. "I'm so happy for you and so grateful for all that you've done for me," he said, pulling back until they were just holding hands facing each other.  
  
"What are friends for?" She said smiling up at him.  
  
"What indeed," he replied and arm in arm they headed back to the beach house.  
  
FIN  
  
Author's note. Well that's it finally completely finished, epilogue and all. Sorry that it sometimes takes me a while to post but this nasty work thing keeps getting in the way of my writing.  
  
Hope all those who have been following this liked the epilogue.  
  
Please let me know what you thought of it.  
  
Judith  
  
Ps thanks to Antonio for his help with some of the medical bits 


End file.
